THE  SANGREAL 


BY 


I  IRWIN  ST.  JOHN  TUCKER 


THE  SANGREAL 


BY 


IRWIN  ST.  JOHN  TUCKER 


TO 

MY  FELLOW  CONVICTS 
in  the  Cause  of  Justice  and  Human  Freedom 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AUTHOR 

1541  UNITY  BUILDING,  CHICAGO.  ILL. 


•  304 


Copyright,   1919,  by  Dorothy  O'Reilly  Tucker 


THE  SANGREAL 

A  Play  in  Four  Acts  by  Irwin  St.  John  Tucker 

CHARACTERS 

KING  ARTHUR  QUEEN   GUENEVERE 

LAUNCELOT  DEARWYN 

ARCHBISHOP  OF  GLASTONBURY     MADELINE 

MERLIN  ISABEL 

PINEL,  a  humpbacked  jester        ENID 

HERMIT  ELFRIDA 

GALAHAD  ETTARRE 

GAWAINE  SISTER  EVELYN 

TRISTRAM  ABBESS  and  NUNS 

PALAMEDES 

GARETH 

GERAINT 

KAY,  the  Seneschal 

pATRICKr  Ambassadors  from  Ireland 

SCENE 

ACT  ONE.  The  Garden  of  Queen  Guenevere  at 
Camelot.  The  rear  is  formed  by  the  south  door  of  the 
Minster,  which  during  the  act  swings  open  disclosing 
the  interior  of  the  Choir,  with  the  Archbishop's  throne 
in  view.  At  the  right  of  the  stage  is  the  Castle  Wall ; 

953194 


4  •      THE   SANGREAL 

at  the  left  is  the  Garden  Wall.  Left  front  is  a  bower 
containing  a  rustic  throne  for  the  Queen. 

ACT  Two.  Interior  of  the  banquet  hall  of  the 
Eound  Table. 

ACT  THREE.  Scene  One — A  Hermit's  Cell  in  Mid- 
Forest.  Scene  Two — Courtyard  at  Camelot,  arranged 
for  execution  by  fire.  Judgment  stand  for  King  in 
Center.  Stage  piled  with  fagots  at  Left. 

ACT  FOUR.  Interior  of  the  Chapel  of  the  Sangreal 
at  Glastonbury. 


THE    SANGREAL  5 

ACT  ONE. 

[Discovered:  Knights  and  Ladies  of  the  Court  danc 
ing  upon  the  green,  GARETH  is  in  the  middle  of  the 
circle,  the  other  knights  and  ladies  forming  a  ring 
around  him.  PINEL  sits  L.  watching.] 

SONG  OF  THE  DANCERS. 
Come  dance  upon  the  meadow  green, 

Merrily,  0  merrily, 
For  we  would  choose  our  woodland  queen, 

Merrily,  0  merrily. 

Then  choose  you  east  and  choose  you  west 
And  choose  the  one  that  you  love  best, 
And  bid  her  kneel  beside  you  there 
For  to  be  your  queen  so  fair. 

[GARETH  chooses  MADELINE.] 
Now  Heaven  hath  blessed  and  made  you  one, 
You  shall  be  true  from  sun  to  sun ; 
Salute  your  bride  and  kiss  her  sweet, 
Then  you  rise  upon  your  feet. 

[MADELINE  breaks  away  as  GARETH  tries  to  kiss  her. 
He  pursues  amid  laughter  and  confusion.  Enter 
KAY,  R.] 

KAY. 

For  shame !    The  morning*  of  bright  Pentecost 
And  such  an  uproar,  in  the  Queen's  own  garden ! 

GERAINT. 
Kay,  come  into  the  game ! 

KAY. 

Do  you  not  know 

How  it  is  written  in  the  wise  man's  rede 
That  when  folk's  legs  twitter  and  dance  and  jig- 
It  is  a  prophecy  of  coming  war? 
A  plague  of  dancing  means  a  plague  of  battle. 

MADELINE. 
But  I  would  rather  dance  than  fight,  Sir  Kay. 


6  THE   SANGREAL 

GARETH. 
And  so  would  I,  if  'twere  to  fight  with  you. 

MADELINE. 
But  there  are  men  I  'd  rather  fight  than  dance  with. 

ISABEL. 

But  spare  him  now,  while  dancers  are  so  few. 
Come  dance  with  us,  Sir  Kay;  partners  are  lacking. 
[They  drag  him  into  the  ring.] 
KAY.    [Struggling.] 
Children!  nay,  nay;  my  kissing  days  are  over. 

PALAMEDES. 
Ha,  but  your  knights  make  up  for  it,  old  scapegrace. 

KAY. 

Ladies !    The  Queen  hath  bid  me  tell  you  all 
To  come  in  and  prepare  you  for  the  mass. 

GERAINT. 

Ho  for   the   Lady   Kay,   the   Queen's   new   maid-in- 
waiting ! 

[Ladies  exeunt,  with  laughter.] 
GARETH. 

0  Lord,  I  am  aweary  of  this  folly. 

1  have  not  had  a  fight  for  three  good  months. 

PALAMEDES. 

Why  does  King  Arthur  suffer  Pentecost 
To  pass  this  year  without  a  tournament  ? 

KAY. 

Where  are  the  Knights  to  make  a  tournament  ? 
Tristram,  Gawaine,  nor  Launcelot  have  come  home. 

GERAINT. 

Launcelot !    It  has  been  three  years  now,  I  think, 
Since  Launcelot  ventured  forth  upon  his  quest. 

PINEL. 

Will  some  kind  saint,  with  nothing  else  to  do, 
Explain  to  me,  who  am  not  all  a.  fool, 
What  sense  is  in  this  mad  sport  chivalry? 


THE  SANGREAL  7 

GARETH. 
Ha,  wise  Sir  Fool,  explain  your  lurking  jest. 

PINEL. 

Sir,  that  is  what  I  seek  to  have  you  do. 
Here  go  you  knights,  clad  all  in  coat  of  mail, 
The  price  of  six  good  farms  upon  your  backs, 
Roaming  across  the  world.     Somewhere  you  meet 
Another  knight,  all  similarly  clad. 
You  fight;  and  one  is  taken  prisoner. 
And  then  the  farmers,  blacksmiths,  shepherds,  serfs, 
Must  toil  like  mad  from  dawn  to  early  dark 
To  pay  your  ransom.    What's  the  sense  in  that  ? 

GERAINT. 
The  man  is  mad. 

GARETH. 

He  has  a  joke  concealed. 
Out  with  it,  fool. 

PINEL. 

Nay,  answer  me  my  question ; 
Why  should  they  pay  your  ransom? 
GARETH. 

Well,  why  not  ? 

That  is  the  purpose  why  such  folk  were  born, 
And  if  they  did  not,  why,  with  fire  and  sword 
We'd  lay  their  dwellings  low,  and  slay  them  all. 

PINEL. 

Then  would  you  lay  your  backs  unto  the  plow 
And  hammer  out,  with  your  own  lordly  palms 
The  coats  of  mail  so  heedless  thrown  away? 

GERATNT. 
Our  backs  unto  the  plow !    Insolent  varlet — 

[Strikes  him.] 
PALAMEDES. 

Hold,  hold  your  hand,  Geraint.   'T  is  a  merry  thought, 
I  'd  hate  to  eat  the  radishes  you  raised. 


THE   SANGREAL 
PlNEL. 

Suppose,  to  give  your  brains  unwonted  toil, 
The  serfs  and  smiths  and  tanners  and  such  folk 
Should  forge  no  more  the  swords  that  lay  them  low ; 
Nor  mail  that  makes  you  safe  against  their  vengeance ; 
Nor  pay  the  ransom  that  you  gamble  for; 
What  would  become  of  all  your  chivalry? 

GARETH. 
By  all  the  saints,  this  is  an  excellent  fooling ! 

[Laughs.] 

PlNEL. 

Is  there  no  answer  better  than  a  laugh? 

PALAMEDES. 

Fool,  rack  your  brains  until  the  judgment  day, 
You  '11  find  no  answer  better  than  a  laugh.  [Laughs.  \ 

GERAINT. 

There  is  a  dagger  hidden  in  his  mirth, 
I  feel  its  point,  but  cannot  see  its  edge. 

[Scratches  his  head.] 

PlNEL. 

Labor  no  more ;  for  time  shall  make  all  plain. 

GARETH. 
Where  think  you,  sirs,  our  Launcelot  is  now? 

KAY. 

Friend,  any  wizard  knowing  that  might  have  what 
he  would  of  the  Queen  for  the  telling  of  it.  She 
looks  through  her  lattice  window  and  sighs  hours 
away  for  Launcelot. 

GARETH. 

Trust  him,  friends.  It  was  ever  like  Launcelot  to 
appear  suddenly,  when  no  man  dreamed  him  near, 
lie  may  be  near  us  now,  in  another  dress. 

KAY. 

Saints  bless  me,  lords,  I  had  forgotten.  That  word 
u  drc.ss  " — thanks  for  that  word,  Gareth— recalls  to 


THE  SANGREAL  9 

me  that  I  had  a  message  for  you  from  the  King-. 

[They  all  rise.] 
GARETH. 

Then  give  it,  old  sheep-face ;  do  you  forget  the 
king's  messages  so  easily? 

KAY. 

Oh,  it  was  naught  great.  He  has  prepared  for  you 
all  new  cloaks,  in  which  you  are  to  hear  the  giving  of 
the  law. 

PALAMEDES. 
u  Giving  of  the  law  ?  " 

GARETH. 
And  what  may  that  be  ? 

KAY. 

Why,  it  seems  that  at  every  Pentecost  mass  here 
after,  the  King  hath  ordained  that  there  shall  be  read 
aloud  in  the  vulgar  tongue  of  English,  the  Ten  Com 
mandments  of  the  Law. 

GERATNT. 

I  cannot  see  the  good  of  that.  It  is  as  easy  to  break 
a  commandment  in  Latin  as  in  English 

KAY.  : 

But  it  seems  that  the  King  hath  some  strange  idea 
that  his  knights  should  keep  the  Law  that  they  are 
sworn  to  enforce. 

GARETH. 

Bah!  Where  then  would  be  the  good  of  beino-  a 
knight  ? 

PALAMEDES. 

Well,  let  us  see  the  cloaks.  Pity  that  so  few  are 
here  to  wear  them. 

[Exeunt  all  but  KAY.] 
KAY. 

Lord,  but  it  is  hot  in  the  kitchen! — The  Pentecost 
feast,  and  so  few  of  the  knights  here  to  partake  of  it 


10  THE  SANGREAL 

pity,  pity.  And  the  wise  people  talking  of  a  great 
marvel  that  is  soon  to  appear — mayhap  upon  Pente 
cost — well,  let  it  come.  Boy !  Boy,  bring  me  -a  mug 
of  ale. — They  cannot  hear  me.  Well,  I  must  serve 
myself.  [Exit,  R.] 

[Enter  LAUNCELOT,  left,  disguised  as  an  old  minstrel, 
with  cloak,  white  beard,  and  battered  harp.} 

LAUNCELOT. 
No  one  about  ?    Then  off  awhile,  my  mask. 

[Throws  off  cloak  an$  beard.} 
My  old  familiar  walls  of  Arthur's  court 
Are  you  as  glad  to  look  on  Launcelot 
As  he  is  to  behold  you  once  again? — 
Here  comes  old  Kay.    Now  shall  I  have  great  sport 
In  learning  what  my  comrades  say  of  me. 

[He  re-cloaks  himself.    Enter  KAY,  R.] 

KAY. 

And  they  say  old  Merlin  hath  been  seen  skulking 
about  these  courts.  Well,  old  Druid,  best  beware. 
There  '11  be  small  patience  here  with  such  as  you. 

LAUNCELOT.    [  Whining.  ] 
Most  noble  sir,  of  your  charity  give  to  eat. 

KAY. 
Out,  beggar!    We  have  enough  beggars  within. 

LAUNCELOT. 

I  could  tell  great  news,  good  Sir  Kay,  if  you  would 
but  listen. 

KAY. 
Beggar,  how  do  you  know  my  name  ? 

LAUNCELOT. 

Lord,  ever}7  man  in  England  speaks  oft  of  the  great 
Sir  Kay. 

KAY. 

How  ?  Do  they  speak  of  me  ?  Here  is  a  coin,  beg 
gar.  Do  they  talk  of  me? 


THE  SANGREAL  11 

LAUNCELOT. 

Ah,  Lord,  they  speak  of  you  at  every  cross-roads. 
They  say,  "  What  news  of  the  great  Sir  Kay  ? " 

KAY. 
Do  they  say  that  ?     Tell  me  more,  beggar. 

LAUNCELOT. 

They  say  that  Sir  Kay  is  the  handsomest  knight  in 
Arthur's  court. 

KAY. 

Pah,  that  is  nothing  to  me.  I  care  not  for  that. 
But  what  else  say  they? 

LAUNCELOT. 

They  say  that  when  you  fall  upon  a  knight,  there 
is  nothing  left  of  the  knight. 

KAY. 

Ha,  that  is  true.  You  should  see  me  in  a  rage.  Do 
they  rank  me  with  Launcelot,  now,  as  a  fighter  ? 

LAUNCELOT. 
Have  you  met  Launcelot,  sir?    I  had  not  heard  so. 

KAY. 

Not  yet.  But  listen,  fellow,  that  upstart  Launcelot 
and  I  shall  have  a  reckoning.  He  is  too  much  in  men's 
mouths.  I  must  punish  him  severely. 

LAUNCELOT. 

Good.  I  met  him  upon  the  road.  He  will  be  here 
today. 

KAY. 

O  ye  saints!  Here  today?  Hearken,  beggar,  be  a 
good  friend.  Tell  him  not  what  I  said.  I  would  take 
him  by  surprise.  He  knows  not  that  I  have  enmity 
against  him.  Tell  him  not,  beggar,  else  he  will  not 
come  nigh  the  court.  Promise  me,  scoundrel. 

LAUNCELOT. 

Nay,  lord,  I  must  warn  him,  that  he  suffer  not  un 
knowing. 


12  THE  SANGREAL 

KAY. 

Promise  me,  villain  scoundrel,  before  I  break  every 
bone  in  your  body. 

[KAY    raises    his    staff,  as  though    about    to    strike. 
LAUNCELOT  catches  it  and  unmasks,  laughing.] 

KAY. 

Launcelot !  Lord  Launcelot !  0  this  is  a  merry, 
merry  day.  Come,  let  me  clasp  you  in  my  arms ! 

LAUNCELOT. 

What,  Kay,  changed  so  soon  ?  Those  arms  are  barely 
long-  enough  to  reach  around  your  belt,  and  would  you 
add  such  an  extra  armful  as  I  ? 

KAY. 

Now,  lord,  it  was  only  a  joke.  I  knew  you  all  the 
time — I  did,  indeed. 

LAUNCELOT. 
Fat  old  liar!    Help  me  on  with  this  cloak  again. 

KAY. 
But  why  come  so  tricked  out,  Sir  Launcelot? 

LAUNCELOT. 

I  would  have  sport  with  my  old  friends  today. 
Friend,  tell  me;  does  the  Queen  still  speak  of  me? 

KAY. 
Well,  pull  the  hood  a  little  lower — so. 

LAUNCELOT. 

How  does  she  look?    Sad,  since  I  went  away? 
Or  do  you  think  she  has  forgotten  me  ? 
By  the  splendor  of  God,  why  do  you  not  tell  me? 

[Shakes  KAY  violently.] 
KAY.     [Gasps.] 
Good  saints  have  mercy!     Surely  she  speaks  not  of 

you. 
Does  woman  ever  speak  of  what  she  thinks  most? 


THE  SANGREAL  13 

LAUNCELOT. 

Ha ;  well,  I  shall  know  soon.     Here  come  the  knights. 
And  look  you! — do  not  tell  them  who  I  am. 
[Exit  KAY,  L.    Enter  knights,  with  ARCHBISHOP,  R.] 
GERAINT. 

Then,  Bishop,  you  believe  what  these  folk  say? 
ARCHBISHOP. 

There  be  many  strange  things,  lord,  which  are  hid 
den  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  revealed  unto 
babes.  It  may  well  be  that  when  the  holy  Sangreal 
is  near,  the  weak  ones,  and  those  nearest  to  God,  may 
know  of  its  coming. 

GARETH. 

You  do  then  believe  that  the  holy  vessel  shall  again 
be  seen  by  mortal  eyes? 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Sir  Gareth,  I  pray  often.  And  never  do  I  pray 
that  I  ask  not  of  God's  mercy  and  grace  to  grant  me 
to  behold  that  golden  cup,  in  which  the  blessed  Joseph 
of  Arimathea  caught  the  blood  of  Christ  which  flowed 
down  from  the  cross. 

PALAMEDES. 

I  am  a  Saracen,  sir,  and  ask  for  knowledge ; 
What  is  the  meaning  of  this  Sangreal  ? 
What  shall  it  profit  him  who  thus  beholds  it? 

ARCHBISHOP. 

I  know  not  all  its  coming  may  portend, 
But  this  I  hope.     See,  now,  how  wars  are  fought; 
Some  duke  or  baron  sees  some  port  or  road 
He  covets  for  his  own,  by  others  held. 
He  thereupon  discovers  weighty  reasons, — 
Some  secret  treaty,  some  high  moral  right, — 
Why  all  its  taxes  should  be  paid  to  him. 
Then  drums  and  flags  and  panoply  of  war 
Call  all  the  commoners  in  this  holy  cause 


14  THE   SANGREAL 

To  fight  and  bleed  and  agonize  and  die 

That  he  may  have  his  field,  or  port,  or  road, 

Collect  the  taxes  of  his  conquered  town, 

And  clothe  his  queen  in  splendor  from  the  spoils, 

While  they  who  bled  and  fought,  go  home  to  find 

Burnt  homes  and  starving  orphans  all  their  gain; 

With  neither  glory,  gold,  nor  high  renown, 

Back  from  the  field  they  go,  if  they  survive, 

To  toil  again  beneath  an  iron  yoke, 

To  pay  the  debt  their  sport  of  war  incurred. 

GARETH. 

You  would  not  have  the  serfs  consult  on  war, 
And  common  boors  divide  the  victor's  spoils? 

ARCHBISHOP. 

They  pay  the  price — should  they  not  take  the  prize? 
Remember,  lords,  I  am  of  common  blood; 
Christ  was  a  workman;  Peter  peddled  fish. 
Full  many  a  year  I've  watched  this  game  of  war. 
With  broken  heart  still  building  convent  walls 
To  house  the  women  widowed  by  the  sword. 

GERAINT. 

But  this  is  the  reason  why  such  folk  were  born, 
To  toil  and  sweat  in  peace,  and  bleed  in  war, 
That  gentlefolk  spend  their  lives  in  chivalry. 
If  common  people  heard  such  words  as  yours, 
There'd  be  an  end  of  kings;  and  no  more  war; 
Then  where  would  all  our  knightly  glory  be? 
'T  is  well  such  words  are  said  not  in  the  open, 
?T  would  be  rebellion ! 

GARETH. 
Speak  you  against  the  king  ? 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Gaze  on  this  cross,  which  all  of  us  revere. 
Was  not  that  Christ  of  whom  this  is  the  sign 


THE  SANGREAL  15 

Nailed  to  the  cross  for  speaking  'gainst  his  king? 
Was  Christ  a  traitor  ? 

GARETH. 

Not  so ;  for  he  was  God. 
But  those  days  are  all  gone ;  you  are  not  Christ. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

God's  church  hath  seen  full  many  a  kingdom  born, 
And  seen  as  many  die.    What  ?s  kings  to  us 
Who  wear  a  crucifix? 

PALAMEDES. 

But  still,  my  lord, 
But  still  you  speak  not  of  the  Sangreal. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

True ;  then,  while  wars  are  waged  for  sordid  aims, 
Taxes  and  trade  for  motive,  dust  for  end, 
Yet  I  do  see  such  splendor  of  clean  youth 
Tricked  and  betrayed  to  bloody  sacrifice 
Because  they  listen  to  beguiling  words 
That  clothe  a  wretched,  shabby  trader's  lie 
Into  a  cause  as  holy  as  the  Cross. — 
My  lords,  I  am  aweary  of  this  fraud! 
If  blood  must  still  the  world's  wide  fields  bedew, 
Then  let  it  be  for  no  less  worthy  cause 
Than  that  for  which  Christ  died  upon  the  tree, 
To  loose  the  captive's  chains,  break  tyrants'  power, 
And  bring  on  earth  God's  kingdom  as  in  heaven ! 

GARETH. 
I  never  heard  this  meaning  said  before. 

PALAMEDES. 
Oft  have  I  thought  it,  but  in  heathen  terms. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

This  is  the  meaning  of  the  holy  vision. 
Blood  has  been  shed  in  crooked  traders'  wars 
Full  long  enough.     Let  come  the  Sangreal 
And  never  knight  shall  lift  his  glittering  spear 


16  THE   SANGREAL 

But  to  redress  injustice,  shatter  wrong, 
And  give  God's  poor  protection  in  the  right. 
Yea,  then  God's  knights  that  ride  forth  seeking  glory 
Would  not  behold  their  manhood  sold  and  stricken 
To  gild  the  purse  of  some  pot-bellied  knave 
That  strips  his  wife  and  children  of  their  living 
The  while  he  scours  the  earth  for  glory's  sake. 
Ah,  could  our  knights  behold  the  Sangreal ! 

PALAMEDES. 

But  this  have  I  believed  since  I  was  man. 
Is  this  to  be  a  Christian?    If  I  am  worthy, 
I  pray  you,  sir,  baptize  me! 

GERAINT. 

But  this  is  treason ! 
You  speak  against  the  king ! 

ARCHBISHOP. 

How  speak  I  so? 
GARETH. 

You  would  stir  up  the  people  to  rebel. 
The  king  thinks  no  such  thoughts.  This  smacks  of 
treason ! 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Sir,  you  are  young.    Take  counsel  of  gray  hairs. 
Let  not  this  charge  of  "  Treason  "  lightly  fly, 
Lest,  if  the  king  change  overnight  his  mind 
You  shall  be  found  the  traitor  on  the  morrow. 

PALAMEDES. 

If  Christian  knights  so  lightly  hold  their  faith 
In  terror  of  a  kingly  government, 
I  'm  pagan  still.     I  'd  not  be  such  a  Christian. 

ARCHBISHOP. 
Now  see,  Sir  Gareth,  what  your  words  have  done. 

GARETH. 
But  if  you  had  your  will,  there'd  be  no  war. 

ARCHBISHOP. 


THE    SANGREAL  17 

Nay,  there  might' still  be  war;  but  it  would  be 
Embattled  poor  against  the  might  of  tyrants, 
Such  as  the  Sangreal  might  lead  and  bless. 
But  I  must  leave  you  now.     God  keep  you   sirs 

[Exit,R.\ 
GERAINT. 
'T  is  well  such  words  are  said  but  by  a  priest. 

PALAMEDES. 
But  how  long  since  the  holy  vessel  vanished? 

GARETH. 
7T  is  forty  years,  I  have  heard  wise  men  say. 

PALAMEDES. 

And  shall  it  come  again,  this  Pentecost? 
'T  is  pity  that  so  few  are  here  to  see  it. 
[Enter  KAY,  B.] 

KAY. 

News,  brethren.     Sir  Tristram  comes,  and  Sir  Ga- 
waine  will  be  here  shortly. 
[Enter  TRISTRAM.   They  welcome  him  tumultuously.] 

GERAINT. 
Welcome,  Tristram,  flower  of  chivalry. 

GARETH. 
Greeting  to  the  knight  of  Lyonnesse. 

PALAMEDES. 

Welcome,  friend  Tristram.     Where  was  it  we  met 
last? 

TRISTRAM. 

By  the  mass,  friends,  this  feels  truly  like  coming 
home. 

PALAMEDES. 

Where  I  am  is  your  home,  old  Tristram,  so  long  as 
I  have  bite  or  rag  left. 

TRISTRAM. 

Why,  if  it  is  not  my  old  war-dog  of  the  East,  Pala- 
medes.     Good  fare,  comrade! 


18  THE   SANGREAL 

GERAINT. 

What  adventures,  Sir  Tristram?  Have  you  met 
with  Launcelot? 

TRISTRAM.     [Laughs.] 

Well  have  I  met  Launeelot,  and  indeed  it  is  no  fault 
of  his  that  I  am  here.  We  met  in  a  valley  in  Corn 
wall,  and  neither  knew  the  other.  He  was  roasting  a 
joint  of  sheep  in  the  shoulder-plate  of  his  armor  over 
the  fire  beside  a  little  spring.  I  rode  up  and  demanded 
the  meat  from  him.  So  we  fought  and  had  almost 
slain  each  other,  when  I  smote  him  upon  the  bare 
shoulder ;  and  he  swore  his  old  oath,  "  By  the  splendor 
of  God ! "  And  I  knew  him  through  his  helmet,  and 
we  would  fight  no  more. 

GARETH. 

I  wonder  if  he  will  be  here  for  the  quest  of  the 
Sangreal  ? 

TRISTRAM. 
What  mean  you  1    The  Sangreal  ? 

GERAINT. 

The  wise  ones  have  prophesied  that  the  Sangreal 
shall  shortly  appear. 

TRISTRAM. 

The  saints  be  thanked,  I  am  in  time  for  it.  And 
truly  Launcelot  should  be  here  to  behold  it,  if  it 
should  chance  that  the  sacred  vessel  shall  visit  these 
courts. 

[Enter  R.,  MADELINE,  ISABEL,  DEARWYN.  MADELINE 
and  DEARWYN  stop  to  talk  with  LAUNCELOT,  giving 
him  a  coin.  ISABEL  joins  the  knights.] 

GARETH. 
What  has  the  Sangreal  to  do  with  Launcelot? 

TRISTRAM. 

Nay,  surely,  you  know  that?  In  the  old  days,  it 
was  templed  in  the  shrine  at  Glastonbury.  But  King 


THE  SANGREAL  19 

Pelles,  who  was  chief  over  its  guardians,  loved  one  of 
the  maiden  pilgrims  who  came  to  kneel  before  it.  So 
the  sacred  vessel  vanished  from  the  sight  of  men,  and 
the  spear  with  which  the  Lord's  side  was  pierced  fell 
upon  that  sinful  knight,  and  wounded  him. 

ISABEL. 
What  of  the  pilgrim,  then? 

TRISTRAM. 

She  bore  to  the  sinful  knight  a  daughter,  whom 
they  named  Elaine  of  the  Sangreal,  for  to  mind  that 
because  of  her  begetting  the  Sangreal  vanished  from 
among  men.  And  before  ever  Launcelot  came  to  this 
place,  he  met  and  loved  Elaine  of  the  Sangreal.  She 
died,  and  Launcelot  wandered  to  this  court,  seeking 
to  forget  his  sorrow.  She  left  a  son,  whom  they  called 
Galahad.  To  tell  you  a  secret,  he  will  be  here  today, 
seeking  for  knighthood.  He  is  a  goodly  youth. 

GERAINT. 
How  soon  was  she  forgotten,  in  new  love. 

ISABEL. 

Peace,  Sir  Geraint.    Let  there  not  be  among  us 
More  gossip  of  the  Queen  this  day,  I  pray  you. 

GARETH. 

But  was  not  that  Elaine,  the  daughter  of  old  King 
Pellenore  of  Astolat,  who  slew  herself  for  love  of 
Launcelot  ? 

TRISTRAM. 
That  was  another  maid  of  the  same  name. 

ISABEL. 

Truly,  what  magic  is  there  in  "  Elaine  " 
That  should  twice  snare  the  feet  of  Launcelot  ? 

TRISTRAM. 

Because  she  slew  herself,  her  youngest  brother 
Went  mad;  another,  Torre,  hath  turned  a  hermit 


20  THE   SANGREAL 

And  dwells  in  far  mid-forest  for  her  penance ; 
And  all  because  our  Launcelot  would  love 
One  woman  at  a  time. 

[Enter  GAWAINE,  Right.] 

ISABEL. 

At  least,  then,  he  was  faithful  to  the  Queen 
Since  first  he  met  the  Queen. 

PALAMEDES. 
Ho  ho !     So  none  may  gossip  of  the  Queen  ? 

GAWAINE. 
Greeting,  my  lords.    What  say  you  of  the  Queen? 

GARETH. 

Why,  welcome  home,  Gawaine! 
[DEARWYN  runs  to  meet  him.  He  kisses  her  hand,  but 
still  looks  at  the  knights.] 

GAWAINE. 

The  Queen,  sirs,  is  my  aunt.  Do  you  remember, 
I  pray  you,  that  her  name  must  be  held  sacred. 

TRISTRAM. 

Take  no  offence,  Gawaine.     We  were  but  saying 
How  eagerly  the  court  looks  for  Sir  Launcelot. 

GAWAINE. 

Not  all  the  court  is  burning  for  Sir  Launcelot. 
[He  turns  and  walks  with  DEARWYN  across  to  MADE 
LINE  and\  ISABEL.] 

TRISTRAM. 
What  ails  Gawaine? 

ISABEL. 

I  marvel  if  he  is  jealous? 

[Enter  R.,  LYNNETTE,  ELFRIDA,  ETTARRE,  ENID,  who 
move  about  conversing.  The  knights  join  them.] 

GAWAINE. 

Greeting,  Lady  Madeline.     It  is  joy  to  see  your  face 
again. 


THE  SANGREAL  21 

MADELINE. 

Why,  welcome  home,  my  lord.     I  would  there  were 
more  of  you. 

DEARWYN. 
Where   have   you   been,    Gawaine?      Have   you   been 

wounded, 

Sick,  or  in  prison?     Tell  me  your  adventures. 
It  has  been  weary  years  since  I  have  seen  you. 

GAWAINE. 
Lady,  did  you  receive  my  messages  ? 

DEARWYN. 

You  sent  me  home  three  knights  whom  you  had  van 
quished, 
Yes,  truly;  but  those  knights  were  not  yourself. 

MADELINE. 
But  did  you  meet  Sir  Launcelot  in  your  wanderings  ? 

GAWAINE. 

Lady,  I  am  full  weary  of  that  name. 
At  every  cross-roads  inn,  the  length  of  Britain, 
They  asked  me  of  Sir  Launcelot.    Pardon  me. 

DEARWYN. 

But  why  should  you  be  wroth  with  that  brave  knight  ? 
I  was  about  to  ask  of  him  myself. 

GAWAINE. 

Then  here  is  one  who  will  not  speak  of  him. 
[He  talks  to  LAUNCELOT.    DEARWYN  weeps  to  MADE 
LINE.     Enter  KAY,  R.] 

KAY. 

The  Queen  comes ! 

[Enter  QUEEN  GUENEVERE,   attended  by  PAUL,   her 
page.] 

GUENEVERE. 

Ah,  Tristram,  glad,  most  glad,  am  I  to  see  you. 
Welcome,  nephew  Gawaine.   I  am  most  glad 


22  THE   SANGREAL 

Dearwyn,  my  sweet,  to  see  you  made  so  happy. 

[She  takes  her  seat  upon  her  rustic  throne.] 
Sir  Tristram,  tell,  I  pray ;  what  news  have  you  ? 

TRISTRAM. 

I  was  but  now  telling  your  ladies,  Madame, 
That  I  had  almost  slain  Sir  Launcelot 
And  he  slain  me,  when  once  we  met  in  Cornwall . . . 

GAWAINE. 

Sir  Tristram,  I  boseech  you  of  your  mercy 
Mention  some  other  name. 

TRISTRAM. 
What  mean  you,  sir  ? 

GAWAINE. 

I  am  full  weary  of  the  sound  of  "  Launcelot." 
God's  blood,  where'er  I  go,  by  land  or  sea, 
This  Launcelot  hath  been  there ;  and  not  a  word 
Can  any  maiden,  churl,  innkeeper,  hermit, 
Knight,  nobleman  or  beggar,  say  to  me, 
But  "  Oh !  Sir  Launcelot !  Ah,  that  wondrous  man ! 
And  do  you  know  him  well  ?  " 

GUENEVERE. 

Gawaine,  have  done. 

GAWAINE. 

Pardon  me,  madame.   I  would  not  offend  you, 
But  this  name  is  too  much  in  all  men's  mouths. 

TRISTRAM. 

Gawaine,  this  is  the  court  of  good  King  Arthur, 
And  there  shall  be  no  brawling  in  its  bounds. 

GAWAINE. 

Why  say  you  this  ?  I  am  not  brawling,  lord, 
But  I  should  be  most  glad,  if  cause  were  given, 
To  show  that  there  are  other  knights  in  Britain 
Beside  this  Launcelot. 

GUENEVERE.     [Stamps  her  foot.] 
Gawaine,  how  do  you  dare  ? 


THE  SANGREAL  23 

TRISTRAM. 
Put  up  that  sword. 

GAWAINE. 

Do  you,  Tristram,  take  shelter  from  my  sword 
Behind  a  woman's  skirts? 

TRISTRAM.     [Draws'  sword.] 
Ha,  by  St.  Paul! 

[They  engage.   Screams  from  the  ladies.   LAUNCELOT 
pulls  back  TRISTRAM  and  steps  between  them.] 

LAUNCELOT. 
Hold,  gentlemen.  I  pray  you  do  not  quarrel. 

GAWAINE. 
So  Tristram  hides  behind  an  old  man  now ! 

LAUNCELOT. 
He  has  a  sure  defense. 

[Plucks  sword  from  beneath  his  robe.] 
GAWAINE. 

So,  would  you  dare ! 

[They    engage.    GAWAINE   is   disarmed,    LAUNCELOT 
twisting  his  sword  out  of  his  hand.} 

GARETH. 

Bravo,  old  man !   Where  did  you  learn  that  trick  ? 
[GAWAINE  wrathfully  picks  up  his  sword  and  walks 
to  other  side  of  stage,  DEARWYN  comforting  him.] 

TRISTRAM. 

What  is  your  price  for  lessons  with  the  sword? 
[Smites  LAUNCELOT  heavily  on  the  shoulder.  LAUNCE 
LOT  winces  and  rubs  his  shoulder.] 

LAUNCELOT. 
By  the  splendor  of  God ! 

TRISTRAM. 

Aha !    7T  is  Launcelot ! 
[LAUNCELOT  unhoods,  laughing.   The  court  cheers.] 


24  THE   SANGREAL 

OMNES. 

Launcelot!  Launcelot!   Launcelot! 
[LAUNCELOT  turns  to  the  QUEEN  and,  kneeling,  kisses 
her  hand.] 

GUENEVERE. 

My  knight,  my  knight,  you  have  returned  to  me. 
LAUNCELOT. 

Good  Sir  Gawaine,  stand  not  apart,  I  pray. 

Somewhat  you  have  against  me,  that  I  grant ; 

But  on  this  feast  day,  let's  be  friends  again. 

[GAWAINE  turns  sullenly  away  from  him.] 

Ho,  was  the  joke  too  keen? 

[Cathedral  ~bell  rings.  Procession  of  acolytes,  monks, 
etc.,  crosses  stage,  rear,  Left  to  Right,  chanting; 
ARCHBISHOP  brings  up  the  rear.  All  drop  to  knee  as 
he  passes.  Just  before  him  walk  GAHERIS,  UWAINE 
and  GALAHAD,  all  clad  in  white.] 
PALAMEDES. 

It  is  a  goodly  sight.  Who  are  those  three 

That  walk  in  white,  before  his  grace  the  bishop  ? 
ISABEL. 

They  are  the  candidates  for  knighthood,  sir. 

They  shall  be  knighted  later,  at  the  feast. 

[Knights  and  ladies  stream  after  the  ARCHBISHOP  into 
church,  Right.  GUENEVERE  makes  as  if  to  follow 
them,  then  returns  to  LAUNCELOT;  placing  PAUL  an 
guard  at  rear  of  stage.  They  embrace.] 

[House  goes  dark  for  thirty  seconds.  During  this  time 
the  south  doors  swing  open,  disclosing  the  interior 
of  the  church.  The  procession  passes  up  the  main 
aisle  of  the  cathedral  into  the  chancel,  chanting  as 
they  go  the  Pentecost  introit,  Exsurgat  Deus.  As 
the  Gloria  is  reached,  the  lights  in  front  come  on 
again,  and  the  voice  of  the  ARCHBISHOP  is  heard, 
chanting.] 


THE  SANGREAL  25 

ARCHBISHOP. 
Gloria  Patri,  et  Filio,  et  Spiritui  Sancto; 

CHOIR. 
Sicut  erat  in  priwcipio,  et  nunc  et  semper, 

Per  omnia  saecula  saeculorum,  Amen. 

'> 

GUENEVERE. 

My  knight,  my  knight,  my  knight!    Hast  thought  of 
me? 

LAUNCELOT. 
Lady,  what  chains  could  keep  my  thoughts  away  ? 

GUENEVERE. 

For  three  long  years  my  eyes  have  sought  for  you, 
And  found  you  not. 

LAUNCELOT. 

But  my  heart  called  across  the  parting  gulf. 
Could  yours  not  hear  its  cry  ? 

GUENEVERE. 

Ah,  but  what  good  a  cry,  to  one  who  thirsts? 
Yea,  venturing  to  the  world's  extremities 
An  empty  desert  have  you  left  at  home. 
The  heart  of  Britain  beat  in  poverty 
While  you  have  blessed  Antipodes  with  your  spear. 
And  ever  came  messengers  to  tell  of  you1 — 
Now  here  you  were,  now  half  across  the  world — 

LAUNCELOT. 
And  there  I  spread  the  name  of  Guenevere — 

GUENEVERE. 

0  but,  my  knight,  what  worth  is  fame  to  me 
With  you  not  near  to  share  it  ?  Know  you  not 
No  woman  cares  for  fame,  or  wealth,  or  jewels, 
Except  to  make  herself  more  lovely  in 
Her  true  love's  eyes — or  to  make  her  forget? 


26  THE  SANGREAL 

LAUNCELOT. 

You  could  not  be  more  lovely  in  my  eyes. 
[Chanting    begins    again   within,    forming    a    barely 
audible  accompaniment  to  their  talk.] 

GUENEVERE. 

And  all  the  weight  of  fame  you  crowned  me  with 

Made  me  more  hungry  for  your  eyes  to  see. 

Nor  knew  I  never  where,  or  how  you  were, 

What  kingdoms  winning,  or  by  what  princess  won — 

LAUNCELOT. 

Rich  lands,  proud  marvellous  kingdoms  have  I  seen, 
But  never  one  where  I  desired  to  rule, 
Since  I  was  crowned  king  of  a  lovelier  realm — 
The  heart  of  Guenevere. 

GUENEVERE. 
You  could  have  been  a  king  ? 

LAUNCELOT. 
I  am  a  king. 

My  father  ruled  the  lands  of  Brittany, 
Whose  throne  was  foully  seized  by  Claudias. 
I  could  have  driven  him  out,  and  crowned  myself, 
And  been  a  king,  even  as  your  Arthur  is, 
Save  that  I  could  not  then  be  Guenevere's  knight ; 
And  so  I  cast  away  a  crown,  for  you, 
And  gained  most  wondrous  richly  by  the  exchange. 

ARCHBISHOP. 
Dominus  vobiscum. 

CHOIR. 
Et  cum  spiritu  tuo. 

ARCHBISHOP. 
Oremus. 

GUENEVERE. 

In  those  three  years,  through  all  those  wondrous  lands, 
How  many  wondrous  maidens  have  you  seen — 


THE  SANGREAL  27 

LAUNCELOT. 
Not  one,  that  could  compare  with  Guenevere — 

GUENEVERE. 

Nay,  but  the  loveliest  of  all  lands  on  earth. 
Sun-haired  are  Saxon  damsels;  midnight-eyed, 
With  rosy  luscious  lips,  are  they  of  France ; 
Yea,  Launcelot,  your  own  land  oft  laughed  to  see 
The  heart  of  Britain  bleeding  in  your  helm ; 
Winsome  the  maids  of  Ireland,  and  as  shy 
As  their  own  mists  the  girls  of  Scotland  are, 
Who  with  their  sweet  evasion  make  the  heart 
More  keen  to  clasp  them  close — oh,  how  know  I 
That  Launcelot  hath  been  true  ? 

LAUNCELOT. 
My  loveliest  one ! 

GUENEVERE. 

And  there's  not  one,  but  for  his  name  alone 
Would  count  dishonor  glory,  in  his  arms. 

LAUNCELOT. 

How  came  this  seed  suspicion  in  your  mind  ? 
[PINEL  enters  R.  and  attempts  to  paiss  through  court 
yard.  PAUL  sets  fiercely  upon  him  with  his  dagger, 
and  drives  him  back.} 

PAUL.     [Fiercely.] 
Out,  twisted  fool !  Back,  lest  I  strike  you  dead ! 

[Exit  PINEL.] 

GUENEVERE. 
From  what  sweet  midnight  treasons  have  you  come? 

LAUNCELOT. 

Treasons !   Lady,  how  comes  this  word  from  you  ? 
I  have  most  often  found  they  who  are  traitors 
First  raise  the  cry  to  hide  their  own  misdeed ! 

GUENEVERE. 

0  Launcelot,  0  do  not  so  misjudge  me ! 
You  have  been  gone  in  glorious  chivalry, 


28  THE   SANGREAL 

While  I  was  caged  up  here,  and  ate  my  heart  out 
In  longing,  and  in  loving,  and  in  fear. 

LAUNCELOT. 

In  long  lone  nights  beside  the  starlit  road 

When,  pillowed  on  my  saddle,  awake  I  lay 

While  keen  winds  swept  the  firmament  above, 

I  pondered  much  upon  this  love  of  ours. 

In  each  man's  deepest  soul  some  fire  is  sowed 

Whose  upward  burning  drives  him  ever  on 

Against  all  ills  unto  his  heart's  desire. 

Whatever  goal,  or  by  whatever  power 

Such  hearts  may  seek  and  win  their  dwelling-place 

— So  it  be  power,  fame,  wisdom,  justice,  wealth — 

It  is  not  there  that  he  shall  find  content. 

Both  strife  and  prize  to  him  are  incomplete. 

That  surging  spirit  which  turns  a  shattered  cause 

And  hurls  resistless  on  to  victory ; 

Or  that  calm,  sure,  and  unperturbed  mind 

Which,  ordering  wasteful  remnants  to  its  will, 

With  weak,  unstable  midges  for  its  stone 

Builds  to  eternity — whatever  height 

Warrior  or  builder  wins,  't  is  lonely  there. 

Man  in  man's  self  no  comfort  finds,  nor  praise. 

But  to  achieve  His  will  God  to  each  man 

Hath  summed  up  every  lacking  quality, 

All  beauty,  sweetness,  wonder,  grace,  and  truth, 

And  made  of  them — a  woman.   And  every  heart 

Seeking  its  own,  upon  one  woman  rests, 

As  doth  the  sailor,  through  wild  stormy  seas 

Guide  by  one  star.   And  this  you  are  to  me. 

As  easy  might  the  soul  of  Lauricelot 

Destroy  itself,  as  on  another  fix, 

Forgetting  Guenevere. 


THE  SANGREAL  29 

GUENEVERE. 

Forgive  me,  Launeelot, 

[They  embrace.} 

ARCHBISHOP.     [Within,  chanting.] 
God  spake  these  words,  and  said 
Thou  shall  have  none  other  gods  but  me. 

CHOIR. 
Kyrie  eleison. 

GUENEVERE. 

Ah,  did  you  hear?   God  never  gave  that  law 
To  any  woman's  heart.    Oh,  I  have  bowed 
Before  the  incarnate  wonder  of  the  host, 
And  to  the  God  therein  concealed  arid  hid 
I  tried  to  pray.   But  ever  would  my  heart 
Rebel  against  the  false  ackowledgment 
And  worshiped — you! 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Thou  shalt  not  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  thy  God  in 
vain. 

LAUNCELOT. 

Sweet  pagan !    With  a  kiss 
Such  blasphemy  be  hushed. 

GUENEVERE. 

Now  have  you  given 
My  lips  new  cause  for  their  idolatry. 

LAUNCELOT. 

Why  does  he  speak  in  English,  and  not  Latin  ? 
This  is  a  fashion  novel  to  my  ears, 

GUENEVERE. 

?T  is  Arthur's  will,  that  knights  may  know  the  law. 
This  is  the  day  when  from  the  flaming  Mount 
The  Law  was  given  to  Moses ;  and  the  day 
When  flaming  tongues  of  fire  on  twelve  apostles 
Came  down  from  heaven ;  so  Arthur  has  ordained 
That  on  this  day  henceforth  the  Law  be  read, 


30  THE   SANGREAL 

That  all  his  errant  knights  may  be  instructed 
And  know  the  law  that  they  are  sworn  enforce. 
It  comes  now  with  the  triple  weight  and  power 
Of  King,  and  Church,  and  God.   Hear  and  obey. 
[She  stands  with  upraised  hand  pointing  toward  the 
church  door.} 

ARCHBISHOP. 
Thou  shalt  not  commit  adultery. 

GUENEVERE.      [Hands  to  her  ears.] 
Not  that,  not  that !     0  God,  that  awful  word ! 

LAUNCELOT. 
What  difference  shall  a  word  make  to  our  love? 

GUENEVERE. 
But  that  "  word  "  is  God's  law. 

LAUNCELOT. 

How  can  it  be  ? 

If  God  is  love,  then  our  love  came  from  God, 
And  cannot  then  be  evil ;  for  how  shall  he 
Condemn  his  own? 

GUENEVERE. 

Not — not  adultery! 

I  never  thought  it  so!    0  God,  have  mercy, 
I  thought  but  of  myself,  my  happiness, 
My  right  to  live — to  love;  I  never  thought 
That  womanhood  is  more  than  Guenevere. 
I  am  another  man's ;  this  love  is  evil ; 
And  we  are  both  condemned. 

LAUNCELOT.     [Passionately.] 

What  shall  we  care? 

There  is  no  heaven  outside  of  these  your  arms, 
There  is  no  hell,  if  you  be  there  with  me. 
What  joy  could  you  or  I  in  Paradise  find 
Alone?  Or  wandering  ever  desolate 
In  solitary  pain  through  empty  heaven? 


THE  SANGREAL  31 

GUENEVERE. 

0,  that  is  true !    What  if  in  deepest  hell 
We  both  were  plunged,  where  ever-burning  fire 
In  torment  locks  the  hopeless  screaming  souls, 
Those  fiery  scorching  surges  would  but  drive 
Me  closer  to  the  shelter  of  your  love. 

LAUNCELOT. 

And  in  the  sacred  circle  of  our  arms 
No  pain  could  pierce,  but  to  be  soothed  away 
By  one  kiss — such  as  this.  [Kisses  her.] 

ARCHBISHOP. 
Thou  shalt  not  covet  thy  neighbor's  wife. 

LAUNCELOT.     [Starts  away.] 

God!     That  was  said  to  me!    My  neighbor's  wife! 
And  if  my  neighbor  were  my  friend,  my  king, 
Should  it  not  make  damnation  triply  sure? 

GUENEVERE. 

0  Launcelot,  have  you  turned  so  quickly  from  me? 
You  have  but  said  that  were  no  pain,  with  me ! 

LAUNCELOT. 

But  if  that  hell  doth  rage  within  myself, 
And  if  myself  my  own  damnation  be, 
Then  how  should  I  escape  ? 

GUENEVERE. 

What  are  you  saying? 
You  do  believe  in  heaven  and  in  hell? 

LAUNCELOT. 

1  do  believe — in  hell.     Look  you,  my  queen, 
We  are  both  false  to  Arthur.    He  loves  me  well, 
And  loves  you  only,  only  among  women. 

GUENEVERE.  •> 
It  is  not  true.     He  has  another  love. 

LAUNCELOT. 

What  say  you?    Arthur  has  another  love? 
Here's  news  indeed.    Who  is  his  paramour? 


32  THE   SANGREAL 

GUENEVERE. 

His  love  is — Britain. 

Her  only  doth  he  worship,  and  to  her 

Bends  his  whole  soul  in  service.    Why,  for  me 

This  saintly  king  cares  nothing1.     I  have  given  him 

No  son  to  be  his  heir.    He  does  not  love  me. 

Half -love  is  no  love.    Where  I  give  my  heart 

Love  must  be  mine  alone. 

LAUNCELOT. 

Sweet,  such  is  mine. 

GUENEVERE. 
I  would  I  could  believe. 

LAUNCELOT. 

How  can  you  doubt  ? 

GUENEVERE. 

Answer  me  truly,  Launcelot.     Look  on  me. 
This  crown,  these  robes,  this  title  of  a  queen 
They  are  not  mine.    All,  all  were  given  to  me. — 
Oh,  if  I  were  a  man,  I  could  go  forth 
And  win  myself  a  kingdom!     But,  being  a  woman, 
I  am  what  I  am  made. 

LAUNCELOT. 

A  man !    Ah,  sweet, 

Rob  not  the  world  of  sweetness,  for  the  sake 
Of  poor  ambition. 

GUENEVERE. 

But  my  hands,  my  feet, 

My  eyes,  my  very  thoughts,  were  fixed  and  ordered. 
I  might  not  say,  nor  do,  nor  think,  nor  look 
Unseemly  to  a  queen.    But  when  you  came — 
Ah,  there  was  magic  freedom  from  those  chains. 
I  cannot  share  your  heart.     Love,  swear  to  me 
There  is  no  other ! 

LAUNCELOT. 
On  the  crucifix — 


THE  SANGREAL  33 

GUENEVERE. 

And  that  there  never  was! 

LAUNCELOT. 

I  swear  it,  lady ! 

[They  embrace.] 
PAUL. 
Madame,  Sir  Launcelot,  hist !  They  come  from  church. 

LAUNCELOT. 

So  soon?     It  cannot  be. 

[They  stand  concealed  while  knights  and  ladies  stream 
out  of  church  door  and  into  castle.  ISABEL  sees 
them  and  comes  to  them.] 

ISABEL. 
Why  came  you  not  to  church  ? 

GUENEVERE. 

Cannot  I  worship 
Beneath  God's  temple  of  the  open  sky  ? 

ISABEL. 

But  were  you  worshiping  God  ? — An  ill-done  thing ; 
The  priests  will  count  it  for  a  mortal  sin, 
To  stay  away  from  mass  at  Pentecost. 

GUENEVERE. 

I  shall  be  well  content  to  do  their  penance 
For  such  another  sin.     Sweet,  be  content ; 
I'll  answer  for  my  faults.  [Exit  ISABEL.] 

[Enter  KAY.] 

KAY. 
The  King  requires  your  presence,  Sir  Launcelot. 

LAUNCELOT. 
I  go.    Farewell,  my  lady. 

GUENEVERE. 
How  seemed  the  King  towards  my  absence,  Kay  ? 

KAY. 

Ill-pleased  at  first,  my  lady.     But  when  he  heard 
How  Launcelot  came  even  as  the  great  bell  rang 


34  THE   SANGREAL 

He  laughed  and  said  it  was  no  wonder,  then 
You  had  forgot  the  mass,  for  so  would  he 
In  joy  of  having  Launcelot  back  again. 

GUENEVERE. 

Who  were  those  youths  in  white  in  the  procession? 

KAY. 

They  are  the  candidates  for  knighthood,  lady. 
I  have  their  names  upon  a  parchment  here.       [Exit.] 

GUENEVERE.     [Reads.] 

"Gaheris,  son  of  King  Uriens  of  North  Wales; 
Uwaine,  son  of  Sir  Lamorak  of  Armorica;  Galahad, 
son  Of — God  in  heaven,  what  says  this? — Galahad, 
son  of  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake  and  Elaine,  Princess 
of  the  Sangreal" — 
It  lies,  it  lies !  So  be  its  lying  undone ! 

[Tears  parchment.] 

Launcelot  is  true  to  me. — But  was  he  lying? 
Galahad— his  son— his  son !     Ha,  has  he  made  me 
Sport  of  the  loose-tongued  tattlers  all  these  years 
While  he  upon  his  lone  adventuring  slips 
Back  to  his  paramours? 
O  all  you  saints  who  once  were  women  too 
Give  me  revenge  upon  him! 

[Enter  LAUNCELOT,  R.] 

LAUNCELOT. 
Madame,  the  King  doth  bid  you  to  the  feast. 

GUENEVERE. 
False  traitor  knight,  how  dare  you  speak  to  me  ? 

LAUNCELOT.     [In  amazement.] 
Madame!     My  lady! 

GUENEVERE. 

Look  you,  be  not  so  hardy  as  to  abide 
Here  in  my  court  one  moment  more.    Go !    Go ! 

LAUNCELOT. 
By  the  splendor  of  God,  what  means  this,  Guenevere  V 


THE  SANGREAL  35 

GUENEVERE. 

I  have  betrayed  my  lord,  the  truest  husband 
That  ever  woman  had,  for  such  a  traitor. 

LAUNCELOT. 

Nay,  Madame,  no  man  yet,  nor  woman  neither 
Has  ever  called  me  traitor. 

GUENEVERE. 

Go,  I  say. 
LAUNCELOT 
I  will  not  go  until  you  give  me  cause. 

[Grasps  her  arm.] 
GUENEVERE. 

Touch  me  not,  you!         [Strikes  him  across  the  face.] 
[PAUL  runs  to  her  side.    Enter  KAY,  R.] 

KAY. 
The  King  awaits;  the  banquet  is  prepared. 

[LAUNCELOT  and  KAY  exeunt,  R.] 

GUENEVERE. 

Launcelot  is  false.     God,  now  let  heaven  fall! 
[Curtain.] 


THE   SANGREAL 


ACT  TWO. 

[Interior  of  Banquet-Hall  of  the  Round  Table.  KAY 
and  PINEL  discovered,  KAY  putting  the  table  to 
rights.] 

PINEL. 

Now  shall  we  listen  to  the  craven  boasting 
Of  every  knight  who,  mighty  with  his  tongue, 
Tells  as  God's  truth  the  deeds  he  would  have  done 
If  he  had  thought  of  them  when  time  was  ripe. 

KAY. 

Well,  and  why  not  ?    No  witnesses  are  here 
That  may  disprove  the  wildest  lie  from  hell. 

PINEL. 

They  call  me  fool  because  I  tell  the  truth, 
They  split  their  sides  with  laughter  if  by  chance 
I  utter  one  wise  word.    Indeed,  Sir  Kay, 
Truth  is  wild  folly  in  a  world  of  lies. 

KAY. 

Then  be  a  fool,  and  pass  for  Socrates. 
What  care  you?    You  are  fed. 
PINEL. 

Fed?    Yes,  on  curses, 

On  kicks  and  blows  and  vinegar  and  crusts, 
That  make  a  dog  of  one  who- struggles  vainly 
To  hold  his  reason  in  a  world  gone  mad. 


THE  SANGREAL  37 

Now  here  is  Launcelot,  noblest  knight  of  men, 
Robbing  the  King  of  honor  and  of  love, 
Beneath  the  cloak  of  glorious  chivalry ; 
While  if  a  woman  of  the  common  sort 
Being  a  wife,  became  another  man's, 
The  queen  herself  would  sentence  her  to  death. 

KAY. 

Dog  of  a  hunchback,  let  not  your  hoarse  growl 
Echo  against  the  queen! 

PINEL. 
Is  she  a  woman  ? 

KAY. 
She  is  the  queen!  [ExU,.L.] 

PINEL. 

But  answer  me  the  question; 
What  function  hath  she  other  than  a  woman? 
[Enter  LAUNCELOT,  L.,  and  GAWAINE,  R.    They  cross 
in  center.] 
GAWAINE. 
Will  you  fight  me,  Sir  Launcelot? 

LAUNCELOT.      [Absently.] 

Not  I.  "         [Exit,  R.] 
GAWAINE.     [Furiously.] 
He  even  scorns  to  cross  his  swords  with  me. 
[Enter  GUENEVEBE,  L.] 

GAWAINE. 

Madame,  it  is  most  shameful!     You  display 
Your  love  for  this  man  Launcelot  brazenly. 
What,  on  a  public  feast-day,  stay  from  mass 
To  kiss  him,  in  the  garden,  in  broad  day  ? 

GUENEVERE. 

Gawaine !    How  dare  you  speak  so — to  my  face  ? 

GAWAINE. 

It  has  been  said  too  long  behind  your  back. 
When  I  come  home,  after  my  two  year's  quest, 


3S  THE    SANGREAL 

I  find  the  court  linking,  with  jests  and  laughter, 
Your  name  with  Launcelot's ;  and  the  King  himself 
The  only  man  in  all  the  breadth  of  England 
Who  does  not  know  this  joke  beneath  his  nose. 

GUENEVERE. 

Gawaine,  think  what  you  say! 
GAWAINE. 

Think  what  you  do ! 

Is  there  no  honor  left  ? — My  most  dear  aunt, 
I  am  half  crazy  with  this  fearful  thing. 
I  am  the  King's  next  nephew,  and  shall  be 
Ruler  in  Arthur's  stead,  if  he  should  die ; 
I  cannot  stand  and  see  the  crown  of  Britain 
So  draggled  in  the  mire  of  this  foul  fancy — 

GUENEVERE. 

You  wrong  me  twice,  Gawaine;  he  does  not  love  me. 
And  I  do  not  love  Launcelot. 
GAWAINE. 

Name  of  God, 

How  can  you  say  that,  Madame? 
GUENEVERE. 

It  is  true. 

He  has  insulted  me,  and  played  me  false, 
So  brutishly —    0,  if  I  were  a  man, 
I  'd  get  revenge ! 

GAWAINE. 

Why,  what  low  cur  is  this? 
He  stole  your  love,  and  lured  you  to  dishonor, 
And  played  you  false  ? — This  hour  then  he  shall  die ! 

GUENEVERE. 
Where  do  you  go? 

GAWAINE. 
To  run  him  through  the  body  for  a  hound. 

GUENEVERE. 
How  did  you  fare  this  morning  at  his  sword? 


THE  SANGREAL  39 

GAWAINE. 

Then  I  shall  die  defending  England's  honor. 
Let  go! 

GUENEVERE. 

Stay  here.  I  have  a  better  plan. 
Here  at  the  feast,  before  the  Table  Round, 
Do  you  bring  scorn  on  him  in  open  court. 

GAWAINE. 
Scorn  Launcelot !   How  ?  Could  such  a  thing  be  done ! 

GUENEVERE. 

Tell  that  old  story  of  his  shameful  ride 
When  in  a  muckcart,  down  the  hangman's  way, 
He  rode  unarmored  to  the  castle  gates. 

GAWAINE. 
But  that  was  to  save  you  from  shame  and  peril ! 

GUENEVERE. 
No  matter — tell !    Nay,  come  with  me,  Gawaine. 

[Exeunt,  R.] 

[MERLIN  comes  from  corner,  L.,  where  he  has  been 
hiding.} 
MERLIN. 
What,  son  Pinel?     Have  you  forgot  Merlin? 

PINEL. 
Away,  away !    What  fearful  dream  brings  you ! 

MERLIN. 
Nay,  boy,  why  tremble  so?    I  would  not  harm  you. 

PINEL. 

Not  harm  me — you !     Before  my  waking  eyes, 
Fixed  with  gray  terror  in  the  chill  midnight, 
I  see  your  figure  with  uplifted  knife 
Beside  the  bloody  stone  of  sacrifice, 
Your  hand  stretched  forth  to  slay  me  for  the  last 
Of  that  poor  line  of  victims  to  your  gods. 


40  THE   SANGREAL 

MERLIN. 

The  gods  desired  you  not,  deformed  and  twisted; 
And  therefore  you  were  spared. 
PINEL. 

Nay,  I  was  saved 

By  yon  wild  knight  that  drove  you  to  your  hole. 
But  still  the  fearful  power  in  those  wild  eyes 
Turns  me  to  ice  within.    Away !    Away ! 

MERLIN. 

Come,  son  Pinel.    I  brought  you  here  a  gift, 
To  do  with  as  you  will ;  a  little  vial 
Filled  with  strong  poison,  slaying  instantly. 
Do  with  it  as  you  will.    I  give  no  order; 
Yet  I  have  heard  that  you  are  treated  ill. 
This  will  bring  sure  release.  [Retires.] 

PINEL. 

Shall  it  be  so? 

Black,  black  as  serpents'  eyes,  glittering  with  hate. 
T  '11  drop  it  in  my  food,  and  so  be  rid 
Of  all  my  foes  together. 

[He  retires  brooding  on  poison.] 
[Enter  GAWAINE,  R.] 

GAWAINE. 

Launcelot,  this  treachery  shall  cost  you  dear. 
[Enter  KAY,  L.] 

KAY. 

0  ho,  Gawaine,  I  cannot  stop  my  laughing. 
'T  was  I  that  put  it  in  Sir  Launcelot's  ear 
To  mask  and  hood,  and  so  deceive  the  court. 
And  0  ye  saints,  't  was  a  good  joke  on  you ! 

GAWAINE.     [Draws  sword.] 
It  is  not  safe,  Sir  Kay,  to  joke  with  me. 

KAY. 

0  gods!    O  saints!    Put  up  that  sword,  Gawaine. 

1  meant  no  harm.     I  '11  swear  it  was  not  I. 


THE  SANGREAL  41 

GAWAINE. 

If  it  were  not  beneath  my  knightly  oath 
To  soil  this  sword  with  blood  of  such  as  you, 
I  ?d  teach  you  such  keen  humor  as  would  cure 
Your  soul  of  mirth  forever.     Up,  vile  hound ! 

[Kicks  him.   Exit,  R.] 
KAY.    [To  PINEL.] 

Ha,  you  Pinel.     So  you  would  laugh  at  me? 
I  '11  have  you  beaten  bloody  for  that  laugh. 

PINEL. 
I  laugh,  my  lord  ?    But  wherefore  should  I  laugh  ? 

KAY. 

I  heard  you  laugh.     Will  you  cross  words  with  me? 

[Lifts  staff  to  strike  him.] 
I  'II  teach  you  better  manners,  twisted  fool ! 

[ PINEL  suddenly  draws  knife  and  threatens  KAY.] 
What,  will  you  draw  on  me  ?  Will  you  threaten  me  ? 
I  '11  have  you  drawn  and  quartered  but  for  this. 

[Exit  hurriedly.] 
PINEL. 

He  has  beat  me  the  last  time.     Curses  and  kicks 
Have  been  my  portion  from  my  twisted  birth. 
Good  poison,  you  should  have  been  my  friend 
To  help  me  from  this  cave  of  starving  filth, 
Be  with  me  now,  and  we  shall  get  revenge 
On  this  fat  bastard  of  a  seneschal. 
[He  takes  an  apple  from  the  table,  cuts  a  slit  in  it 
with  his  knife,  and  pours  in  the  poison.     KAY  re- 
enters.] 

PINEL. 

Humbly,  Sir  Kay,  I  do  entreat  your  pardon. 
It  was  a  moment's  madness  drove  me  wild — 
The  thought  of  what  I  am,  and  what  must  be. 
I  bring  this  apple  as  peace-offering. 
Will  you  not  eat,  in  token  of  forgiveness  ? 


42  THE   SANGREAL 

KAY. 

You  're  a  good  knave,  Pinel.    We  '11  let  it  pass. 
But — always  be  mindful  of  the  dignities, 
And  laugh  not  at  superiors  in  distress. 

PINEL. 
I  '11  do  so,  lord. — Will  you  not  eat  the  apple  ? 

KAY. 

'T  will  spoil  my  dinner ;  but,  to  give  you  ease — 
[He  is  about  to  bite  the  apple  when  a  gong  rings,  R.] 
Ah  ha,  they  call  me  for  the  marshalling. 
Stand  to  your  place,  Pinel.    I  '11  soon  be  back. 
[KAY  places  the  apple  on  dish  at  the  Queen's  place, 
and  exit.    As  soon  as  he  is  gone  PINEL  dashes  to  the 
table  and  is  about  to  take  the  apple  when  the  ARCH 
BISHOP  enters,  Left.] 

ARCHBISHOP. 
What,  son  Pinel?    Take  not  the  king's  own  silver. 

PINEL. 
I  was  not,  lord — 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Back  to  your  place,  Pinel. 
[ PINEL  slinks  to  corner.  MERLIN  comes  forth.] 

ARCHBISHOP. 
Merlin!     You  here!     What  deviltry  is  afoot? 

MERLIN. 

The  old  gods  wake,  demanding  sacrifice, 
And  to  prepare  the  victims  I  have  come. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

What  heathen  hole  have  you  profaned  till  now  ? 
Five  years  ago,  with  all  your  Druid  pack, 
You  were  forbid  to  linger  in  these  courts. 
Be  gone  before  the  King  shall  catch  you  here. 

MERLIN. 

You  are  the  chancellor;  a  post  I  held 
When  ancient  gods  held  sway  in  Camelot. 


THE  SANGREAL 

But  on  this  ancient  feast  of  Pentecost 

No  stranger  may  be  driven  from  these  gates, 

And  Camelot's  self  today  is  sanctuary. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

What,  would  ye  use  a  Christian  festival 
To  bring  again  your  bloody  demons  here? 

MERLIN. 

The  Feast  of  Flame  was  old,  ere  Christ  was  born. 
This  was  our  festival,  before  you  stole  it. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

See  that  no  deviltry  is  wrought  today, 
And  that  you  quit  these  gates  ere  midnight  come. 

MERLIN. 

The  law  is  yours.     The  people's  hearts  are  mine. 
Yea,  in  the  caves  and  dens  where  I  am  driven 
I  know,  I  know ;  my  nostrils  snuff  the  wind. 
The  ancient  gods  of  Britain  waken  now 
Beneath  the  spell  your  Cross  hath  cast  upon  them. 
The  smell  of  sacrifice  is  in  the  air. 
The  old  gods  waken! 

ARCHBISHOP. 

What  conspiracy 

Have  your  dark  tribesmen  framed  with  overseas? 
Ha,  is  it  you  that  move  behind  these  threats 
The  Norsemen  make  of  ravaging  these  isles? 

MERLIN. 

I  tell  you  that  men's  hearts  are  pagan  still 
Beneath  the  gloss  and  pageantry  of  Christ. 
Think  you  these  laws  that  Arthur  bids  enforce 
Upon  his  bold  knight-errantry — these  rules 
Of  high  self -sacrifice,  of  spotless  honor — 
Think  you  that  they  sit  light  upon  men's  souls 
Bred  to  stern  Odin's  law,  to  Thor's  red  power, 
And  to  those  older,  sterner  gods  than  they 
Whereof  we  Druids  know? 


44  THE   SANGRE   L 

ARCHBISHOP. 

There  strike  you  home ; 
The  knights  are  restless. 

MERLIN. 

Hearken,  chancellor. 

Your  saint  of  Glastonbury  brought  his  rood, 
His  spear,  his  chalice,  from  Jerusalem. 
The  Druids  came  from  Egypt;  and  our  shrines, 
Our  dolmens,  and  our  cromlechs,  and  our  pyres 
Cover  Mid-Europe,  from  the  Spanish  strait 
Even  to  the  misty  shore  where  Ireland  looks 
Past  unknown  waters  to  the  sinking  sun. 
Long  centuries  before  your  Christ  was  born 
Our  mysteries  were  held ;  the  fragrant  blood 
Of  shrieking  victims  stained  the  altar-stones 
From  Hebrides  to  Gaul ;  and  think  you  so 
That  your  weak  Gospel  could  uproot  our  strength, 
Planted  so  deep ;  or  terrify  our  gods 
With  your  strange  Gospel  of  a  dying  Christ? 
Yea,  we  shall  see;  there's  death  upon  the  air. 
The  old  gods  waken,  and  their  thirst  demands 
After  so  long — a  royal  sacrifice! 

ARCHBISHOP.     [Starts.] 
You  mean  the  King  ? 

MERLIN. 

Behold  what  you  shall  see. 
All  nations,  weary  of  the  spell  of  Christ, 
Prepare  their  sons,  their  strongest  and  their  best, 
For  bloody  sacrifice,  in  demon  frenzy 
Upon  the  altar  of  our  ancient  gods. 
Behold  what  you  shall  see.     [He  points  to  the  apple.] 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Old  ravens  hoarsely  croak,  presaging  rain, 
For  envy  of  fair  weather.     Get  you  hence 
Ere  midnight  comes,  or  never  stir  hence  more. 


THE  SANGREAL  45 

MERLIN. 
Midnight  is  time  enough. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

You  shall  be  watched. 
MERLIN. 
Midnight  is  time  enough. 

[Pretends  to  go  out,  then  hides.] 
[Enter  KING  ARTHUR,  carrying  a  weeping  child.] 

ARTHUR. 

There,  cry  no  more;  dry  up  those  creeping  tears. 
Why,  there  's  a  bad  cat,  that  would  scratch  a  baby. 
Yea,  we  must  have  it  punished  for  bad  manners. 
What,  weeping  still? — Then  shall  we  have  an  apple? 
Now  let  this  rosy  fruit  comfort  your  pain— 
[ARTHUR  stretches  out  his  hand  to  the  poisoned  apple. 
PINEL  springs  forward  in  horror.] 

PINEL. 
No,  no,  my  lord,  King  Arthur,     Touch  it  not! 

ARTHUR. 
What,  boy  Pinel  ?      Can  I  not  have  an  apple  ? 

PINEL. 
The  baby,  sir.     She  is  my  sister's  child. 

ARTHUR. 

That 's  not  her  fault.  Why  should  she  starve  for  that  ? 
All  ladies  must  be  fed.     Here,  little  one, 
With  your  bad  uncle  and  your  scratching  cat 
You  are  in  evil  case.     Take  this  big  apple. 
Now  run  and  tell  your  mother  you  are  happy. 
[He  takes  an  apple  from  another  place  and  gives  it 

to  her.   Child  curtseys  and  runs  off.] 
Pinel,  too  often  you  forget  your  manners. 

PINEL. 
Pardon,  my  lord.     I  was — it  was — a  madness. 

ARCHBISHOP. 
I  did  not  know,  sir,  you  loved  children  so. 


46  THE  SANGREAL 

ARTHUR. 

Ha,  are  you  there,  my  conscience?     "Wherefore  hid? 
Nor  no  one  else  knows  it  except  the  children. 
There  is  a  longing-  in  my  inmost  heart 
For  children  of  my  own,  that  burns  like  fire. 
I  do  not  tell,  lest  Guenevere  should  think 
That  I  reproach  her  for  her  barrenness; 
And  I  love  her,  I  think,  yet  more  than  children. 
How  stands  the  knights'  assembly? 
ARCHBISHOP. 

Slender,  yet ; 
But  more  come  in  with  every  hour  that  passes. 

ARTHUR. 

Yea,  I  have  heard  how  Launcelot  appeared 
In  mask,  and  thus  discomfited  Gawaine. 
Well,  let  us  on  and  join  our  company.     [Exeunt,  R.] 
[PINEL  again  darts  to  table  and  seeks  to  take  the 
poisoned  apple.     Enter  KAY,  R.] 

KAY. 

What,  what,  again!     Caught  stealing!     Back,  Pinel, 
The  company  is  coming  to  the  feast. 

PINEL. 

Ah,  God,  too  late,  too  late.     I  '11  watch  my  chance. 
The  curse  of  Merlin  works. 

KAY. 

Back  to  your  place. 

[Trumpet  sounds.  Enter  the  procession  of  knights 
and  ladies,  headed  by  KING  ARTHUR  and  QUEEN 
GUENEVERE.  They  take  places  around  the  Table, 
KING  ARTHUR,  the  QUEEN  and  ARCHBISHOP  sitting 
at  the  high  table  beneath  canopy.] 

ARCHBISHOP. 
Oculi  omnium  in  te  sperant,  Domine, 

OMNES. 
Et  tu  da®  escam  iUorum  in  tempore  opportune. 


THE    SANGREAL  47 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Benedic,  Domine,  ilia  dona  tua  et  nos  pueros  tuos, 
per  Jesus  Christum  nostrum  Dominum. 

OMNES. 
Amen. 

[All  take  their  seats.  Pages  dart  to  and  fro,  laughter 

and  much  talking.] 

ARTHUR.    [Rises.] 

My  knights  and  ladies  of  the  Table  Round 
I  bid  you  welcome  to  our  feast  again. 
Across  the  world  this  goodly  company 
Hath  scattered,  to  uphold  the  right  in  power, 
To  overthrow  oppression,  banish  wrong, 
And  give  the  poor  protection  by  your  strength. 
Right  well  each  one  hath  quit  himself  in  battle 
And  some  are  here,  returned  through  many  toils, 
And  some  are  slain ;  wherefore  we  drink  to  all. 
Here  in  the  cup  that  pledges  all  our  order 
Let  healths  be  drunk  to  them  that  have  returned 
And  peace  to  them  that  perished  by  the  way. 
I  pledge  the  Table  Round. 

[Lifts  the  loving  cup  and  drinks.] 

OMNES. 
Long  live  King  Arthur! 

GUENEVERE. 

I  pledge  all  Britain. 
OMNES. 

Long  live  Queen  Guenevere ! 
[The  cup  passes  from  hand  to  hand,  carried  by  KAY.] 

GARETH. 
I  pledge  the  lovely  lady  Isabel. 

PALAMEDES. 

Why,  man,  be  not  so  stingy  with  your  pledges. 
I  pledge  the  fairest  lady  in  the  land, 


48  THE   SANGREAL 

Lady  Madeline-Enid-Dearwyn-Isabel-Lynnette ! 

[Laughter.' 
ISABEL. 

Your  Saracen  tricks  are  not  yet  all  forgot, 
Good  Sir  Palamedes. 

PALAMEDES. 

These  are  but  few. 
I  could  love  many  more  and  yet  not  suffer. 

TRISTRAM. 

I  pledge  the  noblest  fellow  of  us  all, 
Sir  Launcelot. 

OMNES. 
Launcelot !    Launcelot ! 

ARTHUR. 

There  is  a  seat  reserved  beside  the  Queen 
For  him  whom  all  the  court  holds  highest  honor. 
Sir  Launcelot,  I  bid  you  to  that  seat. 

LAUNCELOT.     [Slowly  rising.] 
I  pray  you,  sir,  forgive  me.    I  am  not  worthy. 

ARTHUR. 
What,  is  the  honor  seat  so  lightly  prized? 

LAUNCELOT. 
Too  high,  my  lord,  for  me  to  dream  of  it. 

ARTHUR. 
What  foolery  is  this?    Come  take  that  seat. 

LAUNCELOT. 
Your  pardon,  sir.     I  cannot— and  I  will  not. 

ARTHUR. 

Are  you  not  held  the  Queen's  own  champion? 
[ARCHBISHOP  putts  his  sleeve  and  whispers  in  his  ear.] 
Perhaps,  then,  you  have  vowed  humility? 

LAUNCELOT. 
Even  so,  my  lord.    A  vow  I  may  not  break. 


THE    SANGREAL  49 

ARTHUR. 

Why,  then,  since  you  will  not  accept  the  seat,— 
No  other  man  shall  take  it. 

GERAINT. 
I  pledge  you,  Enid. 

MADELINE. 

Sir  Launcelot,  then  tell  us  of  your  vow. 
Three  years  you  have  on  wild  adventures  gone, 
And  never  a  word  to  tell  what  wondrous  deeds. 

ARTHUR. 
Yea,  tell  me;  have  you  been  to  Ireland,  Launcelot? 

LAUNCELOT.     [Rising.] 
I  have,  my  lord. 

ARTHUR. 

Even  now  I  have  received  a  messenger 
That  he  is  sending  here  ambassadors, 
Two  knights  of  great  renown,  Mador  and  Patrick. 
Do  you  know  them  ? 

LAUNCELOT. 
Sir,  I  have  heard  their  names. 

ARTHUR. 

Man,  why  are  you  so  sullen-black  and  gloomy? 
This  is  a  feast  day,  not  a  funeral. 
LAUNCELOT. 
Even  so,  my  lord. 

[ARTHUR  shrugs  his  shoulders  amd  turns  to  Arch 
bishop.] 
GAWAINE. 
Perhaps  you  have  a  vow  of  silence  too? 

LAUNCELOT  takes  his  seat  without  replying.] 

PALAMEDES. 

Plague  take  your  vows.    Now  I  had  hoped  to  hear 
The  story  of  your  wanderings  and  your  wars. 

GAWAINE. 
Perhaps  it  is  as  well  he  keepeth  silence. 


50  THE  SANGREAL 

LAUNCELOT. 
What  mean  you,  sir  ? 

GAWAINE. 

Perhaps  some  ancient  story 
Not  to  the  credit  of  the  Table  Round 
Might  force  a  place  through  your  unwilling  lips. 

DEARWYN. 
Gawaine,  please  leave  Sir  Launcelot  alone! 

GAWAINE. 

There  is  a  tale,  not  yet  by  all  forgot 
How  once  the  paladin  of  chivalry 
Rode  in  a  muck-cart  down  the  hangman's  way— 

TRISTRAM. 
Now  by  the  rood,  why  tell  such  stories  here  ? 

LAUNCELOT.     [In  rage.] 
Now  by  God's  splendor,  cub —  [draws  sword.] 

GUENEVERE. 

Nay,  let  us  hear. 

Who  knows  what  secret  shames  beneath  the  shield 
Of  even  the  noblest  traitor  may  be  hid? 
[LAUNCELOT    glares  from    GAWAINE    to    the  QUEEN, 
Then,  very  gently,  he  replaces  his  sword,  bows  to 
the  unobserving  KING,  and  goes  to  the  door.    The 
court  meanwhile  is  silent  in  amazement.] 
[ARTHUR,  noticing  the  sudden  silence,  looks  up.] 

ARTHUR. 
Where  go  you  now,  Sir  Launcelot? 

LAUNCELOT. 
Pray  you,  sir.    Pardon  me.    I  am  not  well. 

ARTHUR. 
Tut,  man,  sit  down.    You  may  not  break  the  feast. 

LAUNCELOT. 

It  is  with  pain,  sir,  that  I  do  depart, 
But  I  must  go. 


THE  SANGREAL  51 

ARTHUR. 

It  lieth  not  with  you 
Nor  any  other  man  save  me  alone 
To  use  that  word  of  "must."    Come,  sir,  sit  down. 

LAUNCELOT. 

There  is  no  man  in  Britain  nor  in  France 
Constrains  me  'gainst  my  will. 

[TRISTRAM  goes  hastily  to  LAUNCELOT.] 
TRISTRAM. 

Be  not  so  hasty. 
Come  take  your  seat  again,  friend  Launcelot. 

LAUNCELOT. 
Tis  twice  this  day  that  she  has  called  me  traitor. 

TRISTRAM. 
She  does  not  mean  it.     Come,  friend,  come  sit  down. 

LAUNCELOT. 

But  no  man  living,  nay,  nor  woman  neither 
Has  ever  impeached  Launcelot  of  treason. 

TRISTRAM. 

Bethink  you  that  all  women  in  their  haste 
Ofttimes  use  language  that  they  reck  not  of. 
You  break  the  company's  joy.     Come,  sir,  sit  down. 
It  is  beneath  your  dignity  to  notice 
The  words  of  Sir  Gawaine. 

LAUNCELOT. 

Why  said  she  "traitor  f ' 
[LAUNCELOT  and  TRISTRAM  go  slowly  to  their  seats.] 

ARTHUR.     [To  GUENEVERE.] 
There  is  some  dark  unreason  in  the  man 
That  comes  of  his  French  blood.    Yet  he  is  royal 
And  must  be  humored.    Do  not  take  him  hardly. 

ARCHBISHOP. 
What  of  the  young  knights,  sir  ? 


52  THE  SANGREAL 

ARTHUR. 
Well  thought.    Sir  Kay,  bring  in  the  candidates. 

[Exit  KAY,  R.} 

We  have,  sirs,  for  your  judgment  on  this  feast 
Three  young  esquires,  who  seek  the  spurs  of  knight 
hood. 

And  one  at  least  I  think,  will  prove  most  worthy. 
[Enter  KAY  with  GAHERIS,  UWAINE  and  GALAHAD, 

all  in  white.] 

My  noble  fellows  of  the  Table  Round 
Look  on  these  young  esquires.   They  have  been  proven 
And  right  well  quit  themselves  in  field  and  court. 

KAY. 

Look  upon  Gaheris,  son  of  Sir  Uriens  of  North 
Wales;  Uwaine,  son  of  Sir  Lamorak  of  Armorica; 
Galahad,  son  of  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  and  see  if 
there  be  any  fault  in  them. 

LAUNCELOT. 
Who  dare  present  this  Galahad  as  my  son  ? 

GALAHAD. 

This  locket,  from  the  neck  of  my  dead  mother. 
They  told  me  it  was  precious  in  your  sight. 

GUENEVERE. 

Dead! 

LAUNCELOT. 

It  is  the  image  of  the  Sangreal 
I  clasped  around  her  neck  when  last  we  parted. 
Boy,  boy,  how  got  you  this  ? 

GALAHAD. 

The  ancient  hermit 

Who  cared  for  me  when  all  beside  were  slain, 
He  bade  me  keep  it  till  I  found  my  father. 

LAUNCELOT. 
I  do  acknowledge  it,    This  is  my  son. 


THE  SANGREAL  53 

ARTHUR. 
[Descends  from  his  high  seat.     Draws  sword,   and 

gives  accolade.] 

Rise,  Sir  Gaheris.  Be  courteous,  brave  and  loyal. 
Rise,  Sir  Uwaine.  Be  courteous,  brave  and  loyal. 
[GALAHAD  kneels.  ARTHUR  is  about  to  knight  him, 

but  holds  his  hand.] 

Nay,  Launcelot,  but  one  hand  shall  knight  your  son, 
And  that  his  father's.     Give  him  the  accolade. 

LAUNCELOT. 

Never  have  I  set  eyes  upon  your  face, 
0  Galahad,  yet  in  your  face  I  see 
You  are  indeed  the  son  of  dead  Elaine. 
God  make  you  good  as  you  are  beautiful 
For  beauty  lack  you  not,  as  any  living. 
Rise,  Sir  Galahad;  be  trusty,  true  and  loyal. 
[Thunder  and  lightning.     The  lights  go  out.     The 
Sangreal,  glowing  a  palpitating  red,  is  seen  for  an 
instant.] 

CHOIR  OF  ANGELS. 

Sanctus,  Sanctus,  Sanctus,  Dominus  Deus  Sabaoth; 
Pleni  sunt  coeli  et  terra  gloria  tua; 
Benedictus  qui  venit  in  nomine  domini. 
Hosanna  in  excelsis.    Amen. 

[As  the  lights  come  on  again,  GALAHAD  is  seen  going 
out  Left,  with  his  sword  held  before  him  in  the 
form  of  a  cross.] 

ARTHUR. 
The  Sangreal ! 

ARCHBISHOP. 
Now  glory  be  to  God ! 

LAUNCELOT. 
Galaiiad,  my  son,  0  whither  go  you  now? 


54  THE  SANGREAL 

GALAHAD. 

I  go  to  find  the  holy  Sangreal ; 
My  father,  follow,  follow !  [Exit.] 

LAUNCELOT. 

I  come,  I  come.    King  Arthur,  hear  my  oath. 
Upon  the  hilt  of  this  unshamed  sword 
As  on  the  cross  I  swear  to  take  my  quest 
And  never  turn  aside  for  any  cause 
Until  a  year  and  till  a  day  are  past 
Until  I  find  the  holy  Sangreal. 

GUENEVERE. 

0  Launcelot  do  not  swear.    0  do  not  leave  me. 

LAUNCELOT. 
What,  changed  again  ? 

GUENEVERE. 
I  did  not  understand. 

LAUNCELOT. 
It  is  too  late.     I  have  sworn.     Farewell,  my  lady. 

TRISTRAM. 
With  you,  my  Launcelot,  I  take  the  quest! 

GAWAINE. 
Shall  they  all  have  the  honor  ?    I  come  too. 

DEARWYN. 
Gawaine,  you  shall  not  stir. 

GARETH. 

I  swear ! 
GERAINT. 

And  I ! 

[Court  in  confusion.  Knights  springing  to  their  feet 
and  swearing  on  their  sword-hilts;  ladies  weeping 
and  clinging  to  their  arms.  With  a  burst  of  cheer 
ing,  the  knights  crowd  out.] 

ARTHUR. 

God,  let  thy  precious  balms  not  break  my  head. 
How  am  I  king,  with  all  my  knights  away  ? 


THE  SANGREAL  55 

DEARWYN. 

And  they  had  only  been  at  home  an  hour. 
Our  Lady  knows  when  they  shall  come  again. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Lord,  lettest  thou  thy  servant  go  in  peace 
According  to  thy  word ;  thy  great  salvation 
Mine  eyes  have  seen.  Would  God  that  I  were  younger ; 
I'd  go  with  them  to  find  the  Sangreal. 
Launcel&t. 

PINEL. 

[Finds  MERLIN,  lying  stricken  on  the  floor.] 
See,  see,  my  lord  the  king.    Merlin  is  here. 

[KAY  and  PINEL  drag  MERLIN  forth.} 

ARTHUR. 
How  came   that   ancient  Druid   in   these   courts? 

ARCHBISHOP. 

I   bade  him  hence   ere   midnight;   on   this  feast 
The   courts    are   sanctuary. 

PINEL. 

He  hid  him  there 
Before  the  feast  began;  I  saw  him  not. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

It  was  the   Sangreal  that   struck  him   dead. 
No  unclean  thing  may  look   on  that  and   live. 

ARTHUR. 

Yea,   is  he   dead?     Merlin   gave   me   this  sword, 
That    cannot   be   withstood   by   shield   or   mail. 

[MERLIN  st^rs  and  lifts  one  hand.] 
Are  you  alive,  0  butcher  of  Tananis? 

ARCHBISHOP. 
How  could  you  see  the  Sangreal  and  not  die? 

MERLIN. 

Had  ye  been  Christian,  I  indeed  were  slain. 
In  faithful  hearts  alone  your  faith  hath  power. 
And  Britain's  heart,  0  King,  is  pagan  still. 


56  THE  SANGREAL 

ARTHUR. 
Out,  out,  blasphemer! 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Nay,  his  words  are  true. 
MERLIN. 

Yet  truly  I  am  stricken  unto  death. 
Take  heed,  take  heed,  King  Arthur ;  for  with  me 
All  things  that  I  bestowed  must  perish  too. 
That  which  you  have,  given  by  my  magic  power 
Is  stricken  with  me  by  the  Sangreal. 

ARCHBISHOP. 
So  your  foul  power  is  ended,  thanks  to  God. 

MERLIN. 

Seen  without  faith  the  Sangreal  shall  slay. 
The  old  gods  wake,  demanding  sacrifice. 
Tananis  comes,  to  try  his  power  with  Christ. 
The  smell  of  blood  grows  heavy  in  the  air. 
I  die,  I  die;  but  take  you  heed,  King  Arthur! 

[Heavy  knocking  outside.] 
ARTHUR. 
Kay,  take  him  hence.    See  if  the  knights  be  gone. 

[KAY  and  PINEL  take  Merlin  out.] 
A  weakling  king  indeed  this  day  am  I. 
A  page  and  fool  and  this  fat  seneschal 
Are  all  the  warriors  that  I  may  command. 

[Heavy  knocking  outside.] 
ARCHBISHOP. 

What  need  of  warriors,  when  the  gift  of  God 
Hath  stirred  in  all  our  hearts  to  give  us  light? 

ARTHUR. 

But  earthly  kingdoms  earthly  arms  require. 
[Enter  KAY  followed  by  SIR  MADOR  and  SIR  PATRICK.] 

KAY. 
My  lord,  I  found  these  strangers  at  the  gate. 


THE  SANGREAL  57 

MADOR. 

Greetings,  King  Arthur,  lord  of  Britain's  realm 
From  Ryence,  King  of  Ireland.    I  am  Sir  Mador, 
By  him  to  you  sent  as  Ambassador. 
And  this  is  Patrick,  sir,  my  youngest  brother. 

ARTHUR. 

You  are  most  welcome,  sirs,  to  this  our  court, 
And  shall  be  well  received  as  fits  your  rank. 
Sir  Kay,  give  places  at  the  banquet  board. 

PATRICK. 

Forbear  the  question,  sir,  if  it  bites  hard, 
But  are  the  knights  of  this  your  court  all  mad  ? 

MADOR. 

Pardon  him,  sir.    He  would  not  be  discourteous. 
But  as  we  came  up  to  your  castle  gate 
We  met  a  crowd  of  knights,  all  rushing  forth, 
All  following  one  in  white,  who  held  his  sword 
Before  him,  crosswise,  so;  and  one,  a  giant, 
Wore  a  red  lion  on  a  surcoat  black, 
Wept  as  he  went,  but  still  he  would  not  turn. 

ARTHUR. 

Indeed,  sirs,  you  are  come  in  evil  time, 
To  find  a- broken  banquet,  wined  with  tears. 
A  marvel  hath  appeared  this  Pentecost. 
And  all  our  knights  are  gone  upon  the  quest. 

MADOR. 
Is  not  Sir  Launcelot  here? 

GUENEVERE. 

Why,  that  was  Launcelot 
Wept  as  he  went,  but  still  he  would  not  turn. 

MADOR. 

It  was  to  fight  with  Launcelot  that  I  came. 
There  are  no  other  knights  in  all  the  world 
Save  Launcelot  and  me.     I  am  half  resolved 
To  call  him  back. 


58  THE    SANGREAL 

GUENEVERE. 

He  would  not  turn  for  you ! 

MADOR. 

No  ?    But  for  this  cause,  lady,  have  I  come ; 
To  try  my  strength  with  Launcelot,  and  proclaim 
My  lady,  Kathleen,  fairest  of  all  women, 
Even  fairer  than  the  fair  Queen  Guenevere, 
And  prove  it  out  on  Launcelot  by  my  sword. 

GUENEVERE. 

Be  it  so.     Take  then  this  bracelet  to  Kathleen, 
Saying  that  Guenevere  salutes  her  rival ; 
And  take  this  fruit  as  evidence  of  goodwill. 
[She  gives  two  apples  to  them,  the  poisoned  one  to 
PATRICK.     PINEL  starts  forward  to  snatch  it  from 
him,  but  is  dragged  back  by  KAY.] 
PINEL.     [Struggling.] 
No,  no,  sirs,  eat  it  not.     There's  poison  there ! 

GUENEVERE. 

Peace,  peace,  Pinel.    You  tax  our  patience  sorely. 
Try  not  your  jesting  at  so  ill  a  time. 

KAY. 
The  fool  is  over-wrought  by  Merlin's  death. 

MADOR. 

I  bear  grave  messages  of  deep  import 
To  you,  King  Arthur,  from  my  lord  King  Ryence. 

ARTHUR. 
We'll  hear  them,  shortly,  when  we  are  at  leisure. 

PATRICK.     [Screams.] 

Help  !   Help  !    St.  Patrick,  guard !   It  burns,  it  burns ! 
Brother — Mador, — Revenge!     See,  I  am  poisoned — 
[He  staggers  to  center  of  stage  and  dies  there.] 

MADOR. 
Fiends  of  black  hell,  what  treachery  is  this  ? 

GUENEVERE. 
0  my  sweet  boy,  what  hand  hath  wrought  this  deed  ? 


THE    SANGREAL  59 

MADOR. 

Behold,  King  Arthur;  see,  my  brother's  dead, 
Poisoned,  and  by  the  hand  of  this,  your  queen. 

ARTHUR. 
How  came  this,  Guenevere  ? 

GUENEVERE. 

I  know  not,  Lord. 

I  knew  not  aught  was  wrong, — how  could  I  tell? 
Some  evil  thing  has  laid  this  trap  for  me ! 

[She  kneels1  beside  PATRICK.] 
MADOR. 

0  dearest  brother,  do  you  lie  so  still  ? 
Sweet  voiced  and  graceful,  slender  as  a  girl, 
The  light  and  joy  and  comfort  of  our  home — 
Slain  here  by  poison  at  the  banquet-board — 
God's  blood,  I  will  have  justice,  or  my  sword 
Shall  carve  out  justice  for  me ! — 

GUENEVERE. 

0  sweet  Mary, 
Whose  hand  hath  done  this  deed  ? 

MADOR. 

What,  will  you  blacken  the  fair  name  of  Mary 
By  calling  her  with  lips  so  stained  with  blood? 
GUENEVERE, 

1  pray  you,  sir,  use  not  such  wild  outcry. 
Why  think  you  I  did  this?    I  had  no  cause 
To  plot  the  death  of  this  fair  boy  of  yours — 

MADOR. 

That  poison  was  intended  as  for  me 
Because  I  challenged  here  your  boasted  title 
Fairest  of  flesh,  when  Launcelot  was  away. 
You  feared  lest  I  should  dispossess  your  claim 
By  virtue  of  main  strength  untruly  held. 


60  THE   SANGREAL 

GUENEVERE. 

0  God,  what  monstrous  calumny  is  this! 

1  had  much  more  to  think  of  than  a  boast — 

MADOR. 
Viper  in  woman's  form — 

ARTHUR. 

Govern  your  tongue. 
You  speak  to  royalty. 

MADOR. 

Where  was  your  royalty,  snake-hearted  jade, 
When  for  the  pin-prick  of  a  challenged  title 
That  I  should  prove  Kathleen  fairest  of  women 
You  poisoned  me  this  apple?     Now  let  the   galled 

world  see 

How  far  stabbed  vanity  stretches  its  revenge 
When  poisoned  boys,  betrayed  at  banquet  tables 
Must  safeguard  Britain's  honor ! 
GUENEVERE. 

Sir,  be  still. 
MADOR. 

Still  ?    When  the  uncold  blood  of  this  my  brother 
Screams  from  the  ground  for  vengeance  ?    Still  ?    My 

shouts 
Could  not  obscure  that  sound.    I  cry  for  justice. 

ARTHUR. 
None  hath  denied  you  justice,  Irish  knight, 

MADOR. 
Then  swear  before  the  dead  to  grant  me  justice. 

ARTHUR. 

That  oath  I  swore  when  I  became  a  king. 
Just  have  I  been  in  every  cause  I  judged, 
And  shall  be  still  while  God  shall  give  me  life. 

MADOR. 
Swear  this  again! 


THE    SANGREAL  61 

GUENEVERE. 

0  Arthur,  do  not  hear  him. 

MADOR. 
What  is  your  law  ?    Your  eyes  have  seen  the  deed. 

ARTHUR.     [To  ARCHBISHOP.] 
What  is  the  law  of  Britain  on  this  head? 

ARCHBISHOP.     [Who  is  kneeling  beside  PATRICK.] 
May  he  rest  in  peace. — Sir,  do  not  make  me  say  what 
is  the  law. 

ARTHUR. 
It  is  your  office  to  declare  the  law. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

I  never  did  it  more  unwillingly. 
The  penalty  for  treason  at  a  feast 
Is  death  by  fire,  that  so  the  sacred  right 
Of  hospitality  be  not  abused. 

LADIES. 
By  fire!    woe,  woe! 

ARCHBISHOP. 

And  if  one  be  accused 

Yourself  decreed,  lord  king,  that  there  should  be 
Trial  by  combat. 

ISABEL. 
But  the  knights  are  gone. 

PINEL. 
My  lord! 

KAY. 
Peace,  fool.    This  is  no  time  for  you. 

MADOR. 
Has  she  no  champion  ?    Then  dies  she  now ! 

ARTHUR. 
Back,  fool.    Put  up  the  sword.    You  shall  have  trial. 


62  THE   SANGREAL 

GUENEVERE. 

But  Launcelot  is  my  champion,  and  hath  sworn 

Not  to  return  until  a  year  and  day, 

For  any  cause.    See  what  your  oaths  have  done. 

MADOR. 

'Twas  not  his  oath  that  poisoned  Patrick  here. 
This  was  the  deed  of  Heaven,  that  none  should  die 
Beneath  my  sword  for  your  thrice  guilty  sake. 

ARTHUR. 

Has  she  no  champion  ?    Then  I  take  the  cause. 
This  is  the  magic  sword  Excalibur, 
By  fairies  forged  beneath  the  shaken  sea; — 
Dare  you  face  it? 

MADOR. 

I  dare.    St.  Patrick,  aid  me. 
Yet  if  I  fall  by  magic,  not  by  might ; 
If  tricks,  enchanted  swords  and  Druid  spells 
Bring  Ireland's  doom,  and  I  by  Patrick  lie, 
Know  this,  proud  king;  the  stain  of  Ireland's  blood 
Shall  never  from  your  honor  be  effaced. 
Her  soul  of  poetry,  by  poison  slain, 
Her  warrior  strength  by  treachery  o'ercome, 
Shall  rise  to  front  you  at  your  darkest  hour, 
And  Ireland's  fate  at  last  be  England's  doom. 

ARTHUR. 
Have  done  with  words.     You  have   impeached   the 

queen, 

Demanding  combat.    I  have  taken  the  cause. 
Stand  to  your  claim,  Sir  Mador! 
[ARTHUR  draws  Excalibur.     The   blade  has  turned 
black.] 
LADIES. 

Look !    Look !    The  blade  is  black ! 
GUENEVERE. 

The  blade  is  black. 


THE  SANGREAL  63 

MADOR. 
Your  magic  fails  you  at  the  hour  of  need. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Where  is  Merlin  ?    From  his  dark  corner  hiding 
He  works  enchantment  to  entrap  the  King. 

[Exit  PlNEL.] 

My  lord,  you  may  not  fight.     Should  you  be  slain, 
We  have  no  king ;  the  Norsemen  are  in  arms, 
The  Irish  are  embattled  in  the  West. 
Wait  for  the  knights7  return.    You  may  not  chance 
The  life  of  Britain  on  the  hazardous  sword. 

MADOR. 

Have  done  with  words.    I  have  impeached  the  Queen. 
Your  magic  fails  you.     Take  another  sword ! 

[Enter  MERLIN,  supported  by  KAY  and  PINEL.] 

ARCHBISHOP. 

What  heathen  spell  has  here  bewitched  the  King? 
Excalibur  is  black. 

MERLIN. 
I  die,  I  die. 

This  is  the  dreadful  shadow  of  your  doom. 
Half  Christian  and  half  Pagan  never  yet 
Maintained  itself.     The  testing  time  is  come, 
0  England,  and  you  are  unarmed  to  meet  it. 
Either  be  all,  or  none;  faith,  or  the  sword; 
Christ,  or  Tananis;  not  by  wretched  cheat 
The  name  of  Christ  above  the  breast  of  Thor. 

ARCHBISHOP. 
Answer  the  question;  hast  bewitched  the  sword? 

MERLIN. 

Yea,  hark,  my  lord  archbishop ;  for  I  tell 
Things  that  your  courage  failed  you  still  to  say. 
You  too  have  paltered  with  a  halfway  creed, 
Dimming  your  altars  with  a  compromise. 
Wherefore,  0  England,  this  has  come  to  you! 


64  THE    SANGREAL 

ARTHUR. 
Enough,  enough ;  have  you  bewitched  the  sword  ? 

MERLIN. 

Not  I ;  the  sin  he  drew  it  to  defend 
Hath  robbed  it  of  its  power.    The  Sangreal 
Slays  them  it  doth  not  save.    Yea,  this  I  say, 
A  Druid  and  a  pagan ;  lo,  your  faith 
Can  only  save  the  faithful. — Ho,  I  die ! 
But  see ;  Tananis  conquers  half  a  Christ, 
And  he  that  parted  Christ  himself  hath  slain ! 
Look  to  yourselves.    Death  rides  upon  the  air. 
I  die — but  I  have  lived !    Save  yourself,  Arthur ! 

[He  falls  and  dies.] 

MADOR. 

Still  Ireland  challenges  you,  English  king; 
Will  you  fight  now  ? 

ARCHBISHOP. 
This  may  not  be,  my  lord. 

ARTHUR. 

This  will  I  do.     Content  you,  Irish  knight. 
I  name  this  day  three  days  when  we  shall  fight. 
Speed  you,  Pinel  and  Kay ;  take  all  the  lackeys, 
Go  forth,  find  Launcelot,  find  all  the  knights; 
Bring  Launcelot  back  to  take  the  Queen's  defense. 
He  is  her  champion.    But  if  he  returns  not 
Then  I  will  take  the  cause,  let  come  what  may. 

MADOR. 
I  will  fight  now. 

ARTHUR. 
You  shall  obey  the  King. 

MADOR. 

Then  patience,  brother  Patrick,  till  I  send 
Sir  Launcelot's  soul  to  bear  you  company. 
[Curtain.] 


THE   SANGREAL  65 


ACT  THREE. 
SCENE  ONE. 

[Half-Stage.  Interior  of  hermit's  cell  in  mid-for 
est.  Altar  at  Right  with  door  to  inner  cell  near  it. 
Outside  door  on  Left.  A  discipline,  or  scourge,  is 
lying  on  the  altar  steps.  Enter  HERMIT.  Crosses 
stage  and  looks  out  of  door  at  Left.] 

HERMIT.  •* 

The  Scorpion  is  near  set.     Midnight  is  past. 

[Goes  ~back  to  small  inner  door  and  calls.] 
Wake,  boy.    'Tis  time  for  mass.    I  will  make  ready. 

[To  himself.] 

This  day,  ten  years  ago,  she  slew  herself. 
From  midnight  until  noon  I  must  say  masses 
For  the  repose  of  my  sweet  sister's  soul. 
Lord  Jesus,  in  the  tabernacle  hidden, 
Accept  my  penance,  and  assuage  the  pains 
Elaine  must  suffer  for  her  dreadful  deed. 

[Kneels  at  altar  steps  and  scourges  himself.] 
Hail  Mary,  full  of  grace,  the  Lord  is  with  thee. 
Blessed  art  thou  amongst  women  and  blessed  is  the 
fruit  of  thy  womb,   Jesus. 

[Laishes  himself  again.] 
Hail  Mary,  full  of  grace — 

[Heavy  knocking  at  outside  door.] 
Who's  there  ? 


66  THE    SANGREAL 

LAUNCELOT.     [Outside.] 
Open  the  door,  holy  man. 

[Hermit  opens  door.  Enter  GALAHAD  and  LAUNCELOT, 
in  armor.] 
HERMIT. 
Greeting,  fair  sirs.    What  would  you  here  with  me? 

LAUNCELOT. 

We  seek  for  shelter  and  for  absolution. 
We  are  from  Arthur's  castle. 
HERMIT. 

Who  is  Arthur  ? 
LAUNCELOT. 

Say  you,  Who  is  Arthur  f    He  is  the  King  of  Britain ; 
He  is  your  master,  priest. 

HERMIT. 

My  master?    Nay. 

Hath  Arthur  lit  these  stars,  or  built  these  hills  ? 
This  brook  that  ripples  past  my  lonely  door, 
Hath  Arthur  sent  me  that  ?    Hark,  how  the  birds 
Do  lazily  chirp  and  croon  in  elfin  sleep. 
Doth  Arthur  feed  them,  think  you  ? 
LAUNCELOT. 

Folly.    No. 
HERMIT. 
My  master  doth  all  these  things. — Who  is  Arthur! 

[Points  to  altar.  \ 
LAUNCELOT. 
[Uncovers  his  head  and  genuflects.     GALAHAD  kneels 

at  altar,  his  sword  upright  before  him.] 
I  crave  your  pardon. — Do  I  know  you,  priest? 

HERMIT. 
I  know  not. 


THE  SANGREAL  67 

LAUNCELOT. 

There  rings  a  haunting  echo  in  your  voice 
Of  some  sad  melody  that  shook  me,  once, 
And  swelled  my  heart  to  bursting. — Who  are  you? 

HERMIT. 
A  priest,  no  more.    What  once  I  was  is  dead. 

LAUNCELOT. 

That  proud-poised  head  and  long,  firm-swinging  arm, 
Were  never  yet  in  cloistered  arches  bred. 
You  were  a  warrior. — Tell  me,  who  were  you  ? 

HERMIT. 

Priest  am  I,  priest ;  knowing  naught  of  Launcelot, 
Nor  Arthur,  nor  his  court;  sunk  in  these  woods, 
Naught  hearing  but  the  frogs  and  rain  and  wind. 
My  beard  is  matted  with  the  dews  of  heaven ; 
For  eight  long  years  have  I  abided  here, 
By  daily  prayers  and  masses  to  repay 
The  sin  of  one  most  dear,  who  could  not  pray 
For  her  own  sin  because — she  slew  herself. 
What  would  you  here  with  me,  Sir  Launcelot  ? 

LAUNCELOT. 

I  would  confess  my  sins  and  be  absolved. 
Two  days  agone,  the  day  of  Pentecost, 
I  was  at  feasting  in  King  Arthur's  court. 
And  then  came  angels  and  a  mighty  light, 
And  then  appeared  the  holy  Sangreal. 
I  took  the  quest  to  find  that  holy  vessel, 
And  not  to  turn  aside,  for  any  cause, 
Until  a  year  and  till  a  day  be  past. 
So  seek  I  absolution  for  my  soul. 

HERMIT. 

Confess  thy  sins.    The  Lord  be  on  thy  lips 
And  in  thy  heart  to  grant  thee  true  repentance. 


68  THE    SANGREAL 

LAUNCELOT.     [Kneels.] 

I  have  been  right  well  thought  of,  and  lo,  now, 
I  am  the  most  wretched  man  in  all  the  world. 
I  have  been  victor  of  all  men  I  met 
Nor  ever  met  I  foe  in  f oughten  field 
But  bowed  at  last  to  me ;  and  yet,  0  God, 
What  profits  it  me  now  ?    For  my  own  soul 
Towers  up  a  foe  against  me,  and  I  have 
No  weapons  for  the  combat. 

HERMIT. 

Confess.    Tell  all. 

LAUNCELOT. 

Across  the  world  an  empty  boast  I  spread, 
That  where  injustice  fed  on  tyranny, 
Justice  was  there  by  my  clean  strength  upheld. 
Yet  meanwhile  I,  enforcing  faith  of  kings, 
Eights  of  the  poor,  the  freedom  of  small  realms, 
Proclaiming  faith  and  honor  among  men — 
I  stole  the  heart  from  all  these  high  pretenses 
Defacing  loyalty,  outraging  love, 
By  what  I  left  at  home. 

HERMIT. 
Tell  all  your  sins. 

LAUNCELOT. 

For  many  sweet  years  I  loved  Queen  Guenevere, 
And  she  loved  me.    And  she  is  Arthur's  wife, 
And  Arthur  is  my  friend,  my  liege,  my  king. 
This  is  my  sin. 

HERMIT. 
And  is  this  all  your  sin  ? 

LAUNCELOT. 

So  deeply  in  my  soul  this  sin  has  burned 
Small  room  was  left  for  any  lesser  fault. 
For  all  these  years  this  precious  jewelled  sin 
I  cherished  in  my  heart ;  calling  it  honor, 


THE   SANGREAL  69 

And  courtly  love,  and  knightly  chivalry. 
Yet  all  the  while  I  travelled  round  the  world, 
The  heart  was  empty  of  my  high  professions, 
By  this  dishonor  done  against  my  own. 

HERMIT. 

There  was  no  sin  that  roused  the  wrath  of  Christ 
Except  hypocrisy.     The  thief,  the  wanton, 
He  freely  hath  forgiven.     The  hypocrite 
Cannot  repent,  therefore  hath  no  forgiveness. 

LAUNCELOT. 

That  is  the  fault  that  hath  made  Britain  weak. 
That  gave  the  lie  to  all  high  deeds  I  did. 
And  in  the  presence  of  the  Sangreal 
That  lie  is  stripped  of  all  its  chivalry. 

HERMIT. 

Will  you  now  quit  the  fellowship  of  the  Queen, 
Nor  ever  in  her  company  come  again  ? 
Will  you  swear  this  upon  the  crucifix  ? 

LAUNCELOT. 
What,  priest?— What  askest  thou?— Must  I  do  this? 

HERMIT. 
Would  you  have  absolution  and  be  clean  ? 

LAUNCELOT. 
Christ  strengthen  me  !     I  swear ! 

HERMIT. 

Will  you  abide  here  in  my  cell  with  me, 
For  forty  days  and  nights,  serving  at  mass, 
Tending  the  altar  here  obediently? 

LAUNCELOT. 
This  will  I  gladly  do.   'Tis  a  small  penance. 

HERMIT. 
And  is  this  all  your  sin  f 


TO  THE   8ANGREAL 

LAUNCELOT. 

All  I  remember. 
HERMIT. 

Hast  never  felt  the  weight  of  one  pure  soul, 
Lost  for  your  sake,  upon  your  conscience  weigh  ? 

LAUNCELOT. 
What  mean  you  now? 

HERMIT. 
Have  you  forgot  Elaine? 

LAUNCELOT. 
Sir  Torre !    Her  brother !    Ha,  I  thought  I  knew  you ! 

HERMIT. 

For  you  she  died,  for  hopeless  love  of  you — 
And  for  these  eight  long  years  have  I  lived  here    - 
Seeking  God's  pardon  for  her  suicide — 

LAUNCELOT. 

What  can  I  do,  0  Torre,  to  aid  her  now  ? 
HERMIT. 

0  Launcelot,  when  you  find  the  Sangreal, 
There  by  the  merit  of  that  holy  blood, 

Pray  that  her  sin  be  cleansed !     Will  you  do  this  ? 

LAUNCELOT. 
Most  gladly,  0  most  gladly ! 

HERMIT. 

Praised  be  God, 

Then  my  eight  years  have  born  their  precious  fruit. 
Kneel  then,  my  son ;  receive  my  absolution. 
Ego  absolvo  te,  in  nomine  Patris  et  Filio  et  Spiritus 

'Sancti. 

Put  off  that  armor  and  put  on  this  robe. 
And  do  you  serve  me  here  at  midnight  mass. 

1  have  a  boy  brought  from  a  nearby  village, 


THE    SANGREAL  7l 

Asleep  so  soundly  he  cannot  be  stirred. 

Light  all  the  candles;  wait  here  till  I  vest.     [Exit  R.] 

[LAUNCELOT  takes  off  his  armor  and  puts  on  an  old 

cassock.] 
LAUNCELOT. 

Galahad,  my  son,  help  me  do  off  this  armor.— 
No,  pray  for  me.    I  need  that  service  more. 
[Taking  a  taper,  he  lights  it  at  the  sanctuary  lamp 

and  then  begins  to  light  the  candles  at  the  altar.] 
[Rapid  footsteps  outside.     PINEL  enters  cautiously.] 

PINEL. 

This  way  they  went.    I  saw  them  in  the  moonlight ; 
I  followed  footprints  till  they  brought  me  here. 
[He  stumbles  on  LAUNCELOT'S  armor.    Recognizing  it, 

he  cries] 

Tis  Launcelot's  armor.— Who   has   slain   Sir  Laun- 
celot  ? 

GALAHAD. 

'T  is  Launcelot  has  slain  Launcelot.  What  would  you  ? 
[On  hearing  his  name,  LAUNCELOT  turns  around  from 
the  altar.     PINEL  seeing  him  is  amazed.    LAUNCE 
LOT  turns  again,  with  an  effort,  to  the  candles.] 

GALAHAD. 
Go  hence,  vain  fool.    Bring  not  your  follies  here. 

PINEL. 

The  Queen !    She  is  in  peril  of  her  life ! 
Sir  Launcelot,  come. 

GALAHAD. 

He  has  forgot  the  Queen. 
LAUNCELOT. 

What  say  you  of  the  Queen  ? 
PINEL. 

Lord  Launcelot,  come. 
Sir  Mador  hath  impeached  her  of  treason 
Because  there  was  a  murder  at  the  feast. 


72  THE  SANGREAL 

The  trial  for  combat  must  occur  today. 
She  hath  no  champion ;  the  King's  sword  is  black ; 
And  if  Sir  Mador  wins,  she  shall  be  burnt ; 
Hasten,  0  haste,  Sir  Launcelot,  and  save  her ! 
LAUNCELOT. 

[Springing  down  from  altar.] 
Give  me  my  armor! 

GALAHAD. 

Nay,  you  shall  not  stir! 

What,  will  you  break  your  oath  so  feather-quick? 
Your  soul  shall  be  in  peril  if  you  go ! 

LAUNCELOT. 

The  Queen  shall  be  in  peril  if  I  stay ! 
What  is  a  soul  worth,  bought  at  such  a  price  ? 
My  armor,  fool!    My  sword! 

[Enter  HERMIT,  in  mass-vestments,  old  and  tattered.] 
HERMIT. 

Where  go  you  now? 
LAUNCELOT. 

Delay  me  not,  or  load  another  death 
Upon  my  weighted  soul. 

GALAHAD. 

You  shall  not  go, 
HERMIT. 
Have  you  forgot  Elaine  so  instantly? 

LAUNCELOT. 

You,  Galahad,  you  may  seek  the  Sangreal. 
'Tis  not  for  such  as  I. 

GALAHAD. 
You  shall  not  go, 
My  father,  back  to  sin  so  late  forsaken. 

PINEL. 

Hasten,  0  hasten,  this  day  she  must  be  saved. 
The  morning  hastens  on.     0  hasten,  hasten. 


THE    SAKGKEAL  73 

GALAHAD. 
You  shall  not  go  save  over  my  dead  body. 

LAUNCELOT. 

Stand  aside,  boy.    I  warn  you,  stand  aside. 

[Draws  sword.] 
HERMIT. 
What,  madman,  Launeelot,  will  you  slay  your  son? 

LAUNCELOT. 
I  warn  you  stand  aside. 

GALAHAD. 

Not  while  I  live. 

LAUNCELOT. 
Then  die!  [Strikes  him  down,  and  exit.} 

HERMIT. 
God  help  Elaine ! 

GALAHAD.     [Struggling  up  agam.] 
God,  pity  Launeelot. 

PINEL.    [Kneels.] 

May  I  remain  here  in  Sir  Launcelot's  stead, 
Out  of  this  welter  of  the  world  gone  mad  ? 
It  was  my  hand  that  in  a  weak  revenge 
For  kicks  and  cuffs  and  curses  without  end 
Poisoned  the  apple  that  hath  wrought  this  thing. 
They  would  not  hear  me  when  I  sought  to  tell, 
But  hatched  a  mad  conspiracy  out  of  air. 

HERMIT. 

That  is  the  essence  of  all  courts  and  law, 

To  punish  them  who  could  have  told  the  truth. 


74  THE  SANGREAL 

Lo  now  how  great  destruction  has  it  launched 
Upon  a  land  long  tending  to  its  death ! 

HERMIT. 
Lay  hold  of  him,  and  bear  him  to  my  bed. 

GALAHAD. 

Sir,  I  shall  live!  the  hurt  within  my  soul 
Is  far  more  grievous  than  that  on  my  body. 

HERMIT. 

Then,  sirs,  stay  here.    Sir  Fool,  I  do  absolve  you ; 
Serve  me  at  mass ;  pray  for  the  world's  redemption. 
[Goes  to  altar,  GALAHAD  and  PINEL  attending.} 

[Curtain.] 


THE   SANGREAL  75 

ACT  THREE. 

SCENE  Two. 

[Courtyard  of  Camelot  Castle.  Walls  draped  in  black. 
A  stake  with  fagots  piled  around  it,  at  Left  front. 
Judgment  seat  for  ARTHUR  C 'enter  rear.] 
[Chanting  heard  in  distance.     A  company  of  monks 
enters  and  circles  the  stage,  chanting  the  Miserere.] 
[Behind  them  come  ladies  of  the  court   dressed  in 
black.     Then  ARTHUR,  ARCHBISHOP,  KAY,  SIR  MA- 
DOR,  and  QUEEN  GUENEVERE,  supported  by  DEAR- 
WYN  and  ISABEL.] 

[ARTHUR  takes  his  seat  upon  the  stage.] 

ARTHUR. 
Sir  Mador,  stand.    Do  you  repeat  your  charge  ? 

MADOR. 

I  do.     That  on  the  feast  of  Pentecost 
When  I  and  my  young  brother,  Patrick,  sent 
Ambassadors  by  Byence,  king  of  Ireland, 
Sat  at  your  board,  trusting  in  your  good  faith, 
This  Guenevere  poisoned  for  me  an  apple, 
Moved  by  foul  jealousy  and  black  revenge, 
Her  champion  being  absent  from  the  court, 
Because  I  challenged  her  long-boasted  claim 
To  be  the  fairest  woman  of  all  flesh. 
It  is  your  law  that  such  a  mortal  charge 
Be  tried  by  mortal  combat ;  and  if  guilty 
She  should  be  burnt  in  presence  of  the  body. — 
Come  forth,  my  brother  Patrick,  and  be  witness. 
[Two  monks   bring    forward    the  body   of  PATRICK 

upon  a  bier.] 

Three  days  have  I  beside  my  brother's  body 
Fasted  and  prayed  that  justice  shall  be  done. 
They  seemed  three  centuries  spent  by  Ireland's  tomb. 
For  all  she  held  most  precious — all  her  music, 
Her  poetry,  her  treasure,  art  and-  song, — 


f6  THE  SANGREAL 

Lie  stricken  down  by  English  treachery. 

It  is  not  I  that  make  the  charge,  King  Arthur ; 

Behold  the  still  accuser  at  your  feet! 

ARCHBISHOP. 
She  hath  denied  the  crime.    Doth  not  that  quit  you? 

MADOR. 
Shall  words  restore  my  brother  back  to  life  ? 

ARTHUR. 
Stand  forth,  my  Queen,  and  answer  to  this  charge. 

GlTENEVERE. 

So  stand  I  forth  to  ask,  how  came  I  here  ? 

Who  am  I  ?    Queen  of  Britain  ?    Or  vile  slave 

Trapped  in  iniquity  in  some  foul  den, 

Dragged,  bound,  before  my  judges?    How  came  I 

And  this  black  stake,  to  stand  both  here  together  ? 

I  fear  not  death ;  that  know  you  well,  King  Arthur. 

But  this  great  shame,  to  put  me  here  for  trial 

Before  the  rabble  gathered  to  behold, 

To  quit  me  of  a  crime  I  could  not  do — 

Lord,  in  your  mind  is  there  one  least  suspicion 

I  killed  this  boy? 

ARTHUR. 
Nay,  lady,  not  an  instant. 

GUENEVERE. 

Then  why  do  I  stand  here? 

ARTHUR. 

It  is  the  law. 
GUENEVERE. 
I  am  above  the  law ! 

ARTHUR. 

I  swore  an  oath, 

And  even  I  am  not  above  my  oaths, 
But  keep  them  all  with  proud  punctilio. 
Sweet  lady,  be  content.     God  still  is  gracious, 
And  he  will  see  that  justice  shall  be  done. 


THE   SANGREAL  77 

MADOR. 

That  is  my  trust;  and  therefore  I  demand, 
Where  is  her  champion  ? 

ARTHUR. 

Have  the  knights  returned  ? 
KAY. 
Nay,  sir,  there  is  not  one  of  them  come  back. 

ARTHUR. 
Then  I  shall  take  the  challenge.    Bring  my  sword. 

GUENEVERE. 

Nay,  Arthur,  once  again  I  pray  you  hear  me. 
Why  will  you  put  me  to  this  open  shame? 
If  there  was  love  in  any  word  or  sigh 
You  breathed  when  you  wooed  me  in  Cameliard ; 
When  I,  girl,  but  sixteen,  looked  up  and  saw, 
Beneath  the  golden  splendor  of  your  helm, 
Your  boyish  brow,  wild  with  the  light  of  war, 
Soften  to  me;  if  you  do  still  remember 
The  moss-green  log,  behind  the  old  yew  hedge, 
Where  we  would  sit  and  hear  the  falling  water 
Kipple  between  sweet  silences  of  love — 
0  Arthur,  Arthur,  do  you  love  me  still? 

ARTHUR. 
My  Guenevere,  you  know  how  well  I  love  you. 

GUENEVERE. 
Then  send  this  wild  knight  to  his  home  in  chains ! 

ARTHUR. 

Shall  this  be  England's  justice? — Draw,  Sir  Mador! 
[ARTHUR  draws  his  sword.  The  blade  is  black.] 
What  bungling  fool  gave  this  sword  back  to  me? 
This  is  Excalibur.     Its  strength  is  gone. 
Give  me  another  sword ! 

ARCHBISHOP. 

This  must  not  be. 
My  lord,  you  may  not  fight.    For  England's  sake, 


78  THE  SANGREAL 

Remember  what  the  kingdom  now  confronts. 
Should  you  be  slain,  the  Queen  must  then  be  burnt 
By  proof  thereof.    England  will  have  no  king ; 
War  and  dissension  will  lay  waste  the  realm; 
The  Saxons  will  invade  us  from  the  East, 
And  this  wild  knight  will  lead  his  Irish  hordes 
To  claim  revenge  and  tribute  from  our  land. 
Lay  by  the  battle  till  her  champion  come ; 
So  shall  our  land  at  least  preserve  its  king. 

MADOR. 

Has  she  no  champion  ?     Then  dies  she  now ! 
This  was  God's  doing,  that  none  else  should  suffer 
For  her  thrice  guilty  sake. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Sir,  you  must  choose ; 
England  or  Guenevere. 

MADOR. 

How  can  you  pause  ? 

England  is  fair  and  honest,  clean  and  pure ; 
But  this,  damned  thing  you  call  Guenevere— 

ARTHUR. 

Devils  and  hell !    Sirs,  she  is  still  my  wife. 
Before  I  was  a  king,  I  am  a  man. 
Give  me  another  sword;  I  will  defend  her. 
What  is  this  talk  that  I  must  needs  be  slain  ? 

MADOR. 

Ye  all  were  brave  when  that  enchanted  sword 
Gave  you  a  vantage  over  mortal  men. 
Now  that  the  magic  power  is  withdawn 
See  how  you  choose  and  hesitate  and  fear ! 

ARTHUR. 

Now,  by  St.  Paul,  give  me  Excalibur. 
Be  its  blade  black  or  white  or  sound  or  broken 
I  '11  have  no  other  sword ! 


THE  SANGREAL  79 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Sir,  you  must  not ; 
It  means  your  death. 

ARTHUR. 

By  God,  what  matter  then? 
Must  I  stand  here,  lapped  in  these  kingly  robes, 
And  see  this  vile  knave  taunt  my  queen  to  death  ? 

GUENEVERE. 

0  Arthur,  is  this  true  ?    Will  you  risk  death 
And  England,  for  my  sake  ?    Sir,  do  you  love  me 
Even  more  than  England  ?    Go  to  the  combat,  go 
Lord  of  my  life !    I  knew  not  that  you  loved  me. 

ARTHUR. 
Draw  now!     Arthur  is  England's  justice.     Draw! 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Alas,  for  England's  sake  I  must  do  this. 
My  lord,  your  queen  has  been  untrue  to  you. 

ARTHUR. 

False  dog  of  hell,  what  blasphemy  is  this? 
[ARCHBISHOP  points  to  the   Queen.     ARTHUR  turns 
suddenly  on  her.  She  tries  to  meet  his  gaze,  shrinks, 
shudders,  and  falls  prostrate  at  his  feet.] 

GUENEVERE. 
Had  I  but  known !    Ah  God,  had  I  but  known ! 

ARTHUR. 

Who  has  done  this  ?  What  foul  fiend  has  betrayed  me  ? 
[Looks  around  bewildered.    All  turn  aside  from  his 
gaze.    Only  the  ARCHBISHOP  gazes  steadily  into  his 
eyes.} 

ARTHUR. 
0  no!     Not  Launcelot!     No, — not  my  best  friend! 

MADOR. 
King,  one  blow  shall  avenge  both  you  and  me! 

[Swings  his  sword  above  her.} 


80  .  THE   SANGREAL 

ARTHUR. 

Save  that  for  me.    If  this  strange  thing  is  true, 
And  you  indeed  have  been  untrue  to  me, 
So  much  the  more,  beloved  Guenevere, 
Should  I  be  true  to  you.    And  now  the  rather 
Can  I  face  death;  for  I  can  live  no  longer. 
Take  up  your  sword,  Sir  Mador. 

MADOR, 

Nay,  sir,  tarry; 

Now  can  I  wait  for  Launcelot  with  good  will, 
Knowing  that  I  shall  champion  honor  thus 
To  rid  the  world  of  evil  at  one  blow. 

ARTHUR. 

What,  will  you  palter  and  grow  hot  and  cold, 
Demanding  fight,  then  shrinking  from  the  sword  ? 
Draw,  dog  of  Ireland,  lest  I  slay  you  now. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Will  you  still  risk  the  kingdom?     Hearken,  then; 
In  mortal  flames  the  Queen  must  purge  her  sin, 
Or  else  in  everlasting.     I  forbid  you 
Lift  up  your  sword,  lord  king,  upon  this  quarrel. 
Obey,  or  both  your  souls  shall  burn  in  hell. 

ARTHUR. 

Where  did  you  learn  the  secrets  of  all  hell? 
This  passes  my  belief,  that  any  God 
Could  treat  his  children  so. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

So — do  you  dare  ? 

Then  by  the  power  of  this  most  awful  office 
Which  holds  the  keys  of  heaven  and  of  hell, 
I  here  pronounce  the  blighting  curse  of  God 
Upon  all  England,  for  the  presumptuous  sin 
Of  England's  head,  and  Arthur's  blasphemy, 
If  in  this  quarrel  you  lift  up  your  sword ! 


THE  SANGREAL  81 

COURT  AND  PEOPLE. 
Arthur,  save  us!     Arthur,  save  us! 

ARCHBISHOP. 

The  fate  of  unborn  England  hangs  on  you. 
ARTHUR. 

0  God,  how  shall  I  choose? 

[He  covers  his  head  with  his  mantle  for  a  moment. 
Then  throwing  it  down  with  an  air  of  resolution, 
is  about  to  announce  his  decision,  when  the  castle 
bell  starts  a  violent  ringing.  Cheers  without.  The 
cry  of  "  Launcelot!  Launcelot!"  is  raised.  Wild 
cheering  on  the  stage.  LAUNCELOT  dashes  in,  cov 
ered  with  dust  and  mud.] 

LAUNCELOT. 
Is  this  the  dog  that  would  have  burnt  the  Queen? 

MADOR. 

Stay,  you  are  weary.     Take  your  breath  awhile. 
LAUNCELOT. 

1  will  fight  now ! 

[They  fight.  The  court  and  people  crowd  around 
them,  cheering  ceaselessly.  MADOR  is  slain.  The 
crowd  scatters,  disclosing  MADOR  lying  on  the 
ground  and  LAUNCELOT  clasping  GUENEVERE  in  his 
arms.  ] 

ARTHUR. 

God,  would  that  death  had  saved  me  from  this  hour. 
ARCHBISHOP. 

England  is  saved! 

LAUNCELOT. 

Is  this  the  king  that  would  stand  idly  by 

To  see  his  Queen  burnt  up  before  the  rabble  ? 

Coward,  dog,  jackal,  mockery  of  a  king, 

Blot  on  the  name  of  Britain,  she  is  mine ! 

No  more  is  Guenevere  a  queen  to  you ; 

My  arm  has  saved  her,  and  my  arm  shall  keep ! 


82  THE   SANGREAL 

ARTHUR. 

Now  by  St.  Michael,  come  such  words  from  you  ? 
Betrayer  of  my  honor  and  my  love, 
Look  to  your  life,  Sir  Launcelot ! 

LAUNCELOT. 

War  is  here  declared 
To  take  this  weakling  from  the  throne  of  Britain ! 

[Curtain.] 


THE   SANGREAL  83 


ACT  FOUR. 

[Interior  of  the  Chapel  of  the  Sangreal  at  Glaston- 
~bury.  Over  the  high  altar  is*  a  baldacchino  with 
hanging  curtains  throwing  it  into  gloom:  Candles 
are  burning  before  the  side  altar  of  St.  Mary. 
GUENEVEBE  and  SISTER  EVELYN  are  discovered 
praying.] 

GUENEVERE. 

If  I  could  know — the  battle,  oh  the  battle ! 
All  England  rocks  in  war  because  of  me. 
Launcelot  and  Arthur  at  this  very  hour 
Are  lapped  in  conflict,  but  three  miles  away; 
Perhaps,  this  very  moment,  he  lies  dead! — 

EVELYN. 
Sweet  sister,  calm  yourself.    Be  not  so  troubled ! 

GUENEVERE. 

But  know  you  what  mad  hounds  of  terror  prey 
Upon  my  haunted  soul? 

EVELYN. 

I  know  naught  of  you. 

For  these  three  months  you  have  abided  here 
And  none  of  us  has  even  learned  your  name. 

GUENEVERE. 
Would  you  know  me,  even  if  you  knew  my  name  ? 

EVELYN. 
I  know  not.    Nothing  know  I  of  the  world. 


84  THE   SANGREAL 

GUENEVERE. 

Would  God,  would  God  I  did  not !    To  its  dregs 
I  have  drained  the  foaming  cup  of  worldly  splendor. 
All  England  bowed  the  knee,  and  all  the  world 
Gave  me  the  name  of  fairest  of  all  women — 

EVELYN. 
Are  you  Queen  Guenevere? 

GUENEVERE. 

Ah,  sweet,  sweet  sister, 
Despise  me  not,  because  I  was  that  queen! 

EVELYN. 
Nay,  lady,  weep  not  so.    Be  comforted. 

GUENEVERE. 

I  know,  I  know  what  curses  hourly  roll 
Against  black  heaven,  borne  on  the  billowing  smoke 
Of  cottages  aflame  because  of  me; 
What  quivering  execrations  on  my  name 
Are  heaped  by  wild-eyed  women  above  new  mounds 
Where  lie  their  slain.     There's  not  one  lightest  curse 
But  finds  its  mark ;  and  every  poisoned  arrow 
Strikes  full  weight  on  my  soul.    I  bear  the  hate 
Of  all  the  women  of  England.     O,  for  God's  sake, 
Leave  me  not  here  alone,  with  my  own  soul ! 

EVELYN. 
Would  you  that  I  sing  to  you  ? 

GUENEVERE. 

Pray  you,  do. 
EVELYN.     [Sings.] 
Far  o'er  the  rim  of  the  roaring  sea, 

Under  the  beckoning  twilight  star, 
Glitters  a  city  of  mystery, 
Whose  gates  ever  stand  ajar, 
Dear  refuge  from  storm  or  woe. 
There  the  poor  may  lay  their  sorrows  away 
And  the  sick  may  forget  to  weep. 


THE   SANGREAL  85 

And  bright  dreams  over  the  wanderer  hover, 
Sage  or  warrior,  fool  or  lover; 

Come,  come  away,  on  the  wings  of  the  Day, 

To  the  beautiful  city  of  Sleep. 

GUENEVERE. 

Where  got  you  that  sweet  song? 

EVELYN. 

'T  was  a  young  knight 

Stayed  in  the  abbey  here  three  months  agone, 
Caught  by  the  tempest.  By  the  abbess'  .will 
He  sang  for  me,  after  the  evening  meal. 

GUENEVERE. 
For  you  alone? 

EVELYN. 

Nay,  lady,  all  of  us. 

But  all  so  sweet  his  voice  was,  and  so  lovely, 
It  seemed  to  me  he  sang  for  me  alone. 
I  thought,  could  I  but  always  be  by  him 
It  would  be  so  much  easier  to  be  good. 
Tell  me ;  is  it  not  easier  for  a  woman 
To  live  uprightly,  and  do  always  well, 
If  she  but  have  a  man's  love  help  her  so  ? 
It  seems  their  strength  should  always  help  our  weak 
ness, 
Who  are  so  weak  without  them. 

GUENEVERE. 

Ah,  sweet  sister, 
Much  misery  were  you  spared,  who  know  no  men. 

EVELYN. 

He  had  his  brother  with  him;  a  rough  knight, 
Loud-voiced  and  strong.     They  were  ambassadors 
From  overseas.    I  think  they  both  were  Irish. 
His  name  was  Patrick — 


86  THE   SANGREAL 

GUENEVERE. 

Sister,  sweet,  no  more! 

0  God,  could  not  my  sin  have  spared  me  this, 
To  set  me  here  beside  a  pure  white  soul, 

To  show  even  me  how  black  my  own  has  been? 
Patrick,  dear  heart,  shall  wait  for  you  in  heaven — 
How  can  I  tell  whose  hand  hath  sent  him  there? 
Sweet  Christ,  what  shames  are  yet  reserved  for  me ! 

EVELYN. 

Why  will  you  not  come  join  our  sisterhood? 
There  's  peace  behind  the  veil. 

GUENEVERE. 

How  can  it  be  ? 

Such  deep  unshaken  strength  in  this  light  weave 
Which  even  a  summer's  zephyr  sweeps  aside, 
To  be  a  wall  'gainst  devil-howling  tempests 
That  rave  on  me? 

EVELYN. 
There 's  peace  behind  the  veil. 

GUENEVERE. 
How  strange  comes  this  word  "  peace  "  upon  my  ears ! 

1  know  not  what  it  means.     Sweet,  is  there  peace, 
Can  there  be  peace,  while  Guenevere  yet  lives? 

EVELYN. 
Know  you  this  place? 

GUENEVERE. 

It  hath  a  dismal  look. 

EVELYN. 

It  is  the  chapel  of  the  Sangreal. 
There,  on  that  altar,  through  the  holy  years, 
The  sacred  chalice  stood,  till  by  man's  sin 
And  woman's  weakness  it  was  reft  away. 
'T  was  here  the  pilgrims  knelt ;  and  there  the  king 
Who  dared  profane  this  holy  place  by  lust 
Was  smitten  by  the  Spear  that  pierced  Christ's  side. 


THE    SANGREAL  87 

GUENEVERE. 

0  why  was  I  set  in  this  sacred  place? 

EVELYN. 

'T  is  said  the  Sangreal  shall  reappear 
When  a  great  King  shall  here  renounce  a  love 
As  great  as  that  which  made  King  Pelles  sin, 
And  brought  destruction  down  on  Glastonbury. 

GUENEVERE. 
And  then  shall  there  be  peace  upon  the  world? 

EVELYN. 

1  do  not  know ;  but,  if  there  shall  be  war, 
It  shall  be  not  for  any  lesser  cause 

Than  that  for  which  Christ  died  upon  the  tree, 

To  tear  down  Mammon's  rule,  and  make  earth  heaven. 

LAUNCELOT. 

Where  got  you  this  deep  wisdom  ? 
EVELYN. 

'T  was  the  bishop 

Who  told  us  this.    He  says  it  must  be  soon, 
Or  else  the  world  shall  all  dissolve  in  blood. 

[Screams  without.    Enter  DEARWYN,  weeping.] 

DEARWYN. 
Gawaine  is  dead !    Gawaine !    Gawaine !    Gawaine ! 

GUENEVERE. 

0  Dearwyn,  sweet,  what  news  is  this  ? 
DEARWYN. 

Touch  me  not! 

You  and  your  Launcelot,  with  adulterous  kisses 
Have  slain  my  love.  Gawaine ! 

[Falls  weeping  before  the  altar.} 
GUENEVERE. 

0  Dearwyn,  Dearwyn, 
Have  I  lost  even  you? 

DEARWYN. 

Gawaine  is  dead ! 


88  THE   SANGREAL 

GUENEVERE. 

God  help  poor  women !    We  can  do  naught  but  pray. 

[Enter  GALAHAD,  the  HERMIT,  and  PINEL,  in  cassock 
over  his  fool's  dress.  HERMIT  walks  with  hands  up 
lifted  and  a  strange  ecstasy  upon  his  face.] 

HERMIT. 
This  way  the  voices  call  me. — See  you  there ! 

[Points  to  the  altar.] 
GALAHAD. 
What  see  you  there,  my  father  ?    I  see  naught. 

HERMIT. 

Behold!  three  crosses  on  the  altar  raised; 
And  on  the  midmost  one,  with  jests  and  cursing, 
They  nail  the  Son  of  God! 

PINEL.     [Kneels.] 

I  cannot  see  it. 
GUENEVERE. 
It  is  a  madman. 

EVELYN. 

Lady,  say  not  so. 
Perchance  he  sees  when  wiser  eyes  are  blind. 

GUENEVERE. 

7T  was  wisdom  brought  the  world  to  this  destruction. 
There  was  a  time  when  I  thought  I  was  wise; 
See  how  we  wise  have  ruined  all  mankind! 

HERMIT. 

Hark,  how  he  pleads  for  pity  on  the  world ; 
How  clear  his  voice  rings  down  the  centuries. 

[Chants.] 

<e  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they 
do!" 

EVELYN. 
This  is  not  madness. 


THE   SANGREAL  89 

GUENEVERE. 

'T  is  the  wise  are  mad. 
[Knocking  outside.  The  voice  of  PAUL  the  page  cries] 

PAUL. 
The  Queen,  where  is  the  Queen  ?    I  must  speak  to  her. 

NUNS.     [Outside.] 
The  Queen  is  not  here,  boy. 

PAUL. 
She  is  here.    I  must  see  her. 

EVELYN.      [Calling  through  door.] 
The  Queen  is  here. 

[NuNS    crowd    in,    exclaiming,   with    PAUL,    sorely 
wounded.] 

PAUL. 
Madame,   the  King  is  dead.  [Faints.] 

NUNS. 
The  King  is  dead !    Woe,  woe ! 

GUENEVERE. 

Paul,  what  of  Launcelot? 

ABBESS. 
Madame,  he  is  sore  wounded.    Let  him  rest. 

GUENEVERE.     [Shakes  him.] 
Paul,  what  of  Launcelot? 

PAUL. 

Launcelot  is  dead  too.     There  are  many  dead. 
I  think  that  I  am  dying. 

NUN. 

Paul,  come  with  me. 
PAUL. 
No!   I  must  go  to  Launcelot  and  the  King.       [Dies.] 

ABBESS. 

He  is  dead,  poor  boy.    Come,  let  us  lay  him  here. 
[Nuns  take  up  PAUL'S  body  and  place  him  on  a  bench 
set  lengthwise  before  the  main  altar,  with  six  can 
dles  arranged  around  it.] 


90  THE   SANGREAL 

HERMIT.    [Chanting.] 
This  day  shalt  thou  ~be  with  me  in  Paradise. 

GUENEVERE. 

Launcelot  is  dead — is  dead! 

EVELYN. 

Sweet  lady,  do  not  faint. 
DEARWYN.    [Goes  to  her  and  embraces  her.] 

0  Guenevere,  I  know,  I  know,  I  know ! 

[Enter  ARCHBISHOP  unobserved.] 

GUENEVERE. 
Launcelot  is  dead!      [To  ABBESS.]     Lady,  will  you 

admit  me 

A  member  of  this  sacred  sisterhood? 
For  these  three  months  I  have  abided  here 
And  kept  the  novice's  rule.    I  crave  for  peace. 
All  those  I  love  are  dead. 

ABBESS. 

Are  you  the  Queen  ? 
GUENEVERE. 

1  was  the  Queen.     I  pray,  be  that  forgotten. 

ABBESS. 
It  is  unusual.     I  know  not  what  to  say. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

It  is  well  thought;  that  you  and  Launcelot 
May  die  in  this  one  day,  that  peace  may  come. 
Look,  how  you  forced  me  with  your  twisted  loves 
To  trick  and  palter  in  un-Christian  ways, 
Dimming  the  altar  with  a  compromise, 
To  save  an  earthly  kingdom.     Christ  has  failed 
To  bring  down  peace  on  earth,  goodwill  to  men, 
Because  that  we,  who  wear  his  crucifix 
That  pledged  us  to  the  nation  of  the  poor, 
Divide  our  loyalty  to  this  world's  kings, 
And  make  of  Christ  a  tag  of  heraldry. 


THE    SANGREAL  91 

GUENEVERE. 

My  lord,  that  awful  sentence  you  pronounced, 
That  I  must  burn  on  earth  or  else  in  hell, 
May  it  not  be  relaxed  ?    For  I  would  meet 
My  loved  ones  yet  in  heaven ;  and  I  am  sure 
That  no  just  God  would  damn  him,  for  my  fault. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

If  you  present  your  body  unto  God, 
A  living  sacrifice  to  do  his  will, 
Nursing  the  poor,  and  caring  for  the  sick, 
Your  sins  may  be  atoned,  your  soul  be  cleansed. 

UUENEVERE. 
Thanks  be  to  God — and  may  I  do  this  now? 

DEARWYN. 
And  may  I  come  with  her,  to  take  the  veil  ? 

ARCHBISHOP. 

In  time  of  war  all  rules  must  be  relaxed. 
I  will  admit  you  both,  if  you  agree 
To  take  this  day  irrevocable  vows. 

GUENEVERE. 

Sir,  that  is  my  desire,  to  build,  around  me 
A  wall  that  earthly  tempests  may  not  break, 
To  bring  me  peace. 

DEARWYN. 
And  I. 
ARCHBISHOP. 

Then  come  with  me. 
HERMIT.     [Chanting.] 
Woman,  behold  thy  son! — Behold  thy  mother! 

ARCHBISHOP. 
Who  calls? 

EVELYN. 
A  madman,  sir,  who  looks  on  Christ. 


92  THE   SANGREAL 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Does  he  see  Christ  ?    God,  grant  to  me  that  vision ! 
[They  all  go  to  the  side  altar  of  St.  Mary,  where  the 
ARCHBISHOP  performs  a  brief  ceremony  of  admis 
sion;  GUENEVERE  and  DEARWYN  being  clothed  with 
with  a  white  veil.] 

[Meanwhile  enter  KAY,  L.] 

KAY. 

Thank  the  saints,  a  shelter  at  last.  The  villain 
scoundrels  caught  me  beneath  the  provision  wagon. 
"  Which  side  are  you  for  ?  "  they  asked.  "  Which  side 
are  you  for  ? "  said  I.  "  I  am  for  that  side  too/'  Then 
they  would  have  run  me  through  the  body,  but  I 
dodged  beneath  the  wagon  and  escaped. — Well,  so  ends 
the  battle.  King  Arthur  is  dead  and  Launcelot  is  the 
king.  I  saw  him  wearing  the  crown  with  my  own 
eyes.  Now  let  him  wed  the  Queen,  or  kill  her,  as 
liketh  him,  so  a  man  may  have  his  three  meals  a  day 
in  peace.  God  rest  my  soul ;  I  am  fearful  tired. 

[Lies  down  and  sleeps.} 
[Enter  GARETH,  TRISTRAM,  GERAINT,  and  PALAMEDES 

bearing  the  body  of  KING  ARTHUR  on  a  bier.   They 

lay  it  down  beside  PAUL.] 

GARETH. 

Paul,  are  you  there?    No  fitter  mate  could  be 
To  lie  so  close  beside  a  stainless  king. 

GALAHAD. 
What  knights  are  you,  and  what  is  this  you  bear? 

GERAINT. 

Here  lies  the  knightliest  corse  man  ever  wore, 
King  Arthur,  kingliest  even  in  his  death. 

GALAHAD. 

Yea,  is  this  all  that  you  can  say  of  Arthur, 
His  best  and  kingliest  deed  is  but  to  die? 


THE    SANGREAL  93 

0  Arthur,  you  have  struck  the  knell  of  kings, 
Who  serve  their  people  best  in  leaving  them. 

GARETH. 

What  knight  is  this  that  lacking  sword  and  armor 
Tauntest  King  Arthur's  knights  before  him  slain? 

GALAHAD. 

Swords  have  ye  all,  and  how  have  they  prevailed 
Save  to  bring  death  and  agony  to  Britain? 

PALAMEDES. 

This  is  that  knight  which  sought  the  Sangreal 
And  drew  all  Arthur's  fighting  men  away. 
Thence  hath  destruction  come  upon  the  land. 

GALAHAD. 

Yea,  if  ye  followed  it,  why  turned  ye  back 
So  soon  to  swords  and  blood  and  desolation? 
What  profit  got  ye  from  your  glory's  quest? 
This  hermit  here  and  I  for  these  three  months 
Have  followed  on  the  track  of  your  wild  swords, 
Tending  the  wounded,  burying  the  slain. 
Now  that  the  land  is  covered  with  despair 
Ye  stand,  four  knights  who  sought  each  other's  blood, 
Clasping  your  hands  around  this  kingly  dead. 
Why  clasped  ye  not  your  hands  around  the  living, 
And  saved  these  myriad  lives  and  homes  destroyed  ? 

GERAINT. 
Is  this  the  son  of  Launcelot,  speaking  so  ? 

GALAHAD. 
And  should  not  Launcelot's  blood  rebuke  his  evil  ? 

GERAINT. 

Evil!     Call  you  your  father's  glory  evil? 
What  manner  of  son  is  this? 

GALAHAD. 

Is  it  not  strange 

How  like  this  knightly  glory  is  to  maggots, 
That  only  feed  on  corpses. 


94  THE    SANGREAL 

PALAMEDES. 

Silence,  sirs — 
What  are  they  doing  in  the  corner  there  ? 

TRISTRAM. 

They  are  veiling;  two  new  nuns. 
GERAINT. 

Is  the  Queen  here? 
TRISTRAM. 

She  should  be  here.    I  know  that  Launcelot  sent  her. 
In  truth,  I  brought  her  here  with  Lady  Dearwyn. 

GERAINT. 
Tell  me,  is  Launcelot  dead? 

PALAMEDES. 

No;  he  is  king. 

?T  was  Arthur  crowned  him,  with  his  dying  hands. 
"  Launcelot,"  said    he,   "  7t  is    you  must    wear    this 

crown." 

But  Launcelot  was  loth.     "  I  am  not  worthy," 
Said  he,  "  to  take  this  circlet  from  your  hand." 
"  7T  is  true,"  said  Arthur,  "  ?t  is  a  bitter  choice. 
And  yet  I  must  do  this,  for  knighthood's  sake, 
Lest  some  base  commoner  usurp  this  power, 
And  overthrow  our  glorious  chivalry, 
Building  some  foul  republic  on  its  ruin." 

GARETH. 

The  crown  by  right  is  mine.     Gawaine  is  dead, 
And  I  stand  next. 

PALAMEDES. 

Take  it  from  Launcelot,  then, 
But  do  not  ask  us  all  to  fight  for  you. 

GARETH. 

No,  by  God's  death,  I  'd  rather  die  in  chains 
Than  plunge  poor  Britain  back  in  blood  again. 
With  right  good  grace  I  yield  it  up  to  Launcelot. 
[Enter  LAUNCELOT,  L.,  wearing  the  golden  crown.] 


THE  SANGREAL  95 

TRISTRAM. 
Behold,  the  king. 

GARETH. 

Welcome,  King  Launcelot. 
[They  kneel,  save  GALAHAD  and  the  Hermit.] 

LAUNCELOT. 

I  pray  you,  stand,  sirs.    Do  not  kneel  to  me ; 
I  am  anointed  with  the  blood  of  Britain, 
And  crowned  with  flame.    My  robe  is  all  remorse. 

GALAHAD. 
Gramercy  for  your  rede.     I  did  not  kneel. 

LAUNCELOT. 

What,  Galahad,  boy  ?    I  thought  that  I  had  slain  you. 
Now  God  be  praised  that  you  are  living  still. 

GALAHAD. 

Then  God  must  needs  be  damned  for  all  those  slain. 
You  had  the  will  to  slay  me ;  and  to  you 
I  am  dead  indeed. — Now  let  the  world  adore; 
King  Launcelot  is  of  all  men  most  renowned, 
Who  with  his  sword  hath  slain  his  son  unarmed 
That  he  might  break  an  oath  he  swore  to  God. 
You  have  run  true  to  the  whole  breed  of  kings. 

LAUNCELOT. 
Boy,  would  you  have  me  let  the  Queen  be  burnt  ? 

GALAHAD. 

With  these  own  eyes  I  saw  two  thousand  homes 
Burnt  by  the  flames  your  warring  hosts  have  lit. 
Women  and  children,  girls  and  tottering  men 
Slain  in  all  manner;  tortures,  wounds  and  death 
Stalking  abroad  across  the  land  of  Britain ; — 
To  save  one  queen,  ten  thousand  commoners  die. 
Were  it  not  cheaper  to  destroy  all  kings, 
End  the  whole  breed  at  once,  who  while  alive 
Load  mankind  grievously  with  fruitless  splendor, 
And,  dying,  cost  so  sore  a  tax  of  blood? 


96  THE   SANGREAL 

No  whit  the  better  you  loved  Guenevere 
Than  any  of  these  peasants  loved  his  wife, 
Who  now  must  mourn,  in  anguished  widowhood, 
An  echo  to  your  roundelays  of  lust. 

GERAINT. 
Sir,  he  is  mad ;  he  hath  seen  the  Sangreal. 

TRISTRAM. 
The  body  of  King  Arthur  lies  behind  you. 

LAUNCELOT. 

I  scarce  dare  look  on  his  still  face  again. 
[He  approaches  the  body    from   L.,  as  GUENEVERE, 
veiled  in  the  nun's  habit,  approaches  it  from  the 
Right.    They  see  each  other  across  the  body  of  AR 
THUR.] 

GUENEVERE. 
Launcelot!  Launcelot!  They  told  me  you  were  dead! 

HERMIT.     [Chanting.] 
My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forgotten  me? 

LAUNCELOT. 

What  mean  these  robes?     What  means  this  hanging 
veil? 

ARCHBISHOP. 
She  is  a  nun.     You  dare  not  touch  her,  King. 

[Thrusts  crucifix  between  them.] 
LAUNCELOT. 
You  have  not  sworn  irrevocable  vows? 

GUENEVERE. 

But  what  weight  are  such  oaths  ?    I  thought  you  dead. 
Come,  take  me,  Launcelot! 

ABBESS. 

What  words  are  these  ? 

You  are  the  bride  of  heaven,  and  may  no  more 
Look  for  an  earthly  love. 


THE  SANGREAL  97 

GUENEVERE. 

Heaven  would  not  have 
A  bride  so  all  unwilling.    Launcelot, 
Why  do  you  wait  and  palter?    Is  your  love  drowned 
In  all  these  seas  of  blood  you  shed  to  gain  it? 
Come  take  me  now! 

LAUNCELOT. 

Nay,  madame,  I  am  king ! 
Shall  I  begin  to  rule  unhappy  England 
By  ravishing  a  nun  ?    I  cannot  take  you ! 

GUENEVERE. 

Coward,  are  you  afraid  of  this  gray  priest, 
Or  will  these  women  balk  you  of  your  will  ? 
Why,  Launcelot,  all  these  years  we  two  have  loved 
While  I  was  yet  the  wedded  wife  of  Arthur. 
Vows  I  had  taken  then ;  you  thought  naught  of  them. 
Why  do  you  spurn  me  now?    Are  you  so  changed, 
Or  am  I  now  unfit  to  be  your  queen 
'Because  I  yielded,  when  'twas  you  who  wooed? 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Peace,  peace !  What,  shall  a  nun  use  words  like  these  ? 
Destruction  have  you  brought  upon  the  land 
With  this  wild  love; — now  seek  the  peace  of  God. 

LAUNCELOT. 

There  is  a  fearful  power  in  this  gold  circlet 
Stronger  than  brazen  chains ;  't  is  not  an  honor, 
It  is  a  prison  cell. 

GUENEVERE. 
So  Arthur  spake, 
And  you — you  called  him  coward,  and  made  war. 

LAUNCELOT. 

But  now,  with  this  cursed  crown  upon  my  brow, 
I  know  what  Arthur  meant. 


98  THE  SANGREAL 

GUENEVERE. 

•  Will  you  condemn  me 
To  live  a  prisoner  in  this  funeral  gloom, 
With  sickly  candles  and  incense  all  my  days, 
When  bright  warm  love  calls  me  so  loud, — in  vain? 

LAUNCELOT. 

It  cracks  my  heart  to  bursting  to  behold  you, 
And  I  am  sweating  blood ;  but  for  my  manhood 
I  cannot  take  you  now. 

GUENEVERE. 

What  holds  you  back? 

LAUNCELOT. 
7T  is  Arthur,  dead ; — stronger  than  Arthur,  living. 

GUENEVERE. 

Then  will  you  leave  me  here  in  living  death 
While  you  shall  reign  upon  a  lordly  throne  ? 

LAUNCELOT. 

That  may  not  be. — Arthur,  you  gave  the  crown; 
To  you,  then,  I  restore  it.          ' 

[Lays  crown  upon  KING'S  'bier.} 

— Give  me  a  robe. 
I  ?11  be  religious  too. 

TRISTRAM. 

Madman,  what  mean  you? 

LAUNCELOT. 
I  ?11  be  a  priest,  and  spend  my  life  in  praying. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Yea,  are  you  even  faithless  to  this  trust 
That  dying  Arthur  hath  bequeathed  to  you  ? 
Who  else  is  there  that  may  protect  the  land 
Against  the  folly  that  your  sins  have  wrought  ? 

LAUNCELOT. 

Yet  there  are  things,  my  lord,  no  man  can  do ; 
And  I  could  not  be  king,  with  Guenevere 
Shut  in  a  convent  cell,  me  on  a  throne. 


THE  SANGREAL  99 

GERAINT. 
You  cannot  mean  this.     Launcelot,  you  are  mad. 

LAUNCELOT. 

This  is  the  first  hour  I  have  not  been  mad, 
Daft,  crazed  with  evil  love,  in  all  these  years. 
For  lo,  that  courtly  chivalry  of  France 
Which  I  imbibed  with  my  mother's  milk, 
Is  all  dishonored  with  this  evil  love 
Wherewith  I  have  cursed  Britain — yea,  and  you! 

HERMIT.     [Chanting.] 
I  thirst! 

GUENEVERE. 

My  knight,  my  knight,  will  you  stab  loving  so? 

LAUNCELOT. 

Lo,  how  the  hand  of  God  works  evenly. 
We  two  were  our  own  world,  and  our  own  souls 
Were  to  become  our  heaven;  and  see,  now, 
They  are  our  hell;  and  we  cannot  escape. 

GUENEVERE. 
Sweet  Mary,  send  me  death. 

LAUNCELOT. 

It  is  too  much,  even  to  ask  for  death. 
We  have  not  'earned  the  sweet  deliverance. — 
Crown  Gareth  here ;  he  is  the  King's  next  nephew 
And  he  will  make  a  better  king  than  I. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Nay,  there  is  one  to  whom  the  crown  belongs; 
The  king's  son  must  take  up  his  father's  title. 
Receive  it,  Galahad;  bring  the  land  to  peace. 

GALAHAD. 

A  church  forsworn  holds  out  a  bloody  crown. 
How  often  could  your  word  have  cleared  the  air 
With  one  true  utterance !    But  your  voice  was  choked 
With  too  much  swallowing  of  lascivious  crumbs 
From  any  master's  table,  save  of  God. 


100  THE   SANGREAL 

GARETH. 
Do  you  refuse  it  ? 

GALAHAD. 

Give  it  to  me,  sir. 

Lo,  how  the  glitter  of  this  molten  mud 
Lures  us  like  swampfire  into  hideous  marsh 
Wherein,  all  blood  and  brains  and  rotting  flesh, 
Lie  earth's  young  splendid  millions,  all  destroyed. 
How  heavy  a  price  is  paid  for  England's  crown ! 
Think  you  't  is  worth  the  cost  ? 

GERAINT. 

Scorning  it  so 
You  cannot  wear  it. 

GALAHAD. 

Nay,  I  '11  be  the  king, 

And  build  such  court  as  men  have  never  seen, 
Of  artisans  and  blacksmiths,  serfs  and  poets; 
No  nobleman  dare  venture  in  its  bounds; 
Even  as  Christ,  to  found  his  commonwealth, 
Chose  fishermen,  and  scorned  the  Pharisees. 

ARCHBISHOP. 
0  Galahad,  this  have  I  always  taught! 

GALAHAD. 

Taught — yes;  with  ceaseless  streams  of  empty  words. 
What  one  thing  have  you  done  to  bring  them  true  ? 
Tied  hand  and  foot  to  this  old  game  of  kings, 
What  have  you  done,  but  sanctified  their  folly, 
Called  men  to  slaughter,  and  wept  above  them  slain? 
Old  church,  you  have  enthroned  hypocrisy. 
Take 'off  the  miter;  lay  the  crozier  down; 
Here  is  fit  shepherd  for  the  flock  of  Christ, 
This  hermit,  who  beholds  and  hears  and  feels 
The  agony  of  redemption  ye  forgot. 


THE   SANGREAL  rot. 

ARCHBISHOP. 

Right  gladly  do  I  lay  this  burden  off  me. 
Sir  Torre,  if  in  that  lonely  hermit  cell 
Your  eyes  have  learned  to  see  the  face  of  Christ 
Through  all  the  clouds  and  trickeries  of  this  world, 
Guide  us,  who  lost  our  way,  to  see  him  too.— 
Who  shall  be  chancellor? 

GALAHAD. 

The  wisest  man 

That  I  have  met  in  all  the  realm  of  Britain. 
One  who  spoke  the  truth, — was  laughed  at  for  a  fool. 
One  who  spoke  wisdom,  and  writhed  beneath  your 

scorn. 

Ye  holding  truth  and  wisdom  to  be  madness. 
Rise,  Sir  Pinel,  and  be  my  chancellor. 
Rule  Britain  for  me ;  for  I  shall  go  forth 
And  through  the  crowded  huts  and  lonely  cabins 
Where  young  men  sit  and  wonder  at  the  stars, 
I  '11  rouse  the  soul  of  Britain  with  strong  words 
To  end  at  once  this  wretched  masquerade 
That  cloaks  the  world  with  monstrous  agony. 
Wherever  two  or  three  are  met  together 
There  shall  you  hear  the  voice  of  Galahad 
For  a  new  war  to  put  an  end  to  kings. 

[The  SANGREAL  appears  upon  the  high  altar.] 

ARCHBISHOP. 
Behold !— The  Sangreal ! 

GALAHAD. 

0  blood  that  burst  from  the  rent  heart  of  Christ, 
Thrill  still  in  all  our  veins !    There  is  no  change 
Of  color  or  of  warmth  or  of  rich  texture 
That  marks  off  king  from  peasant,  nor  one  nation 
From  all  its  kindred  nation ;  yea,  behold, 
The  Blood  of  God  runs  in  the  veins  of  man, 
And  all  the  nations  are  one  brotherhood. 


102'  TKE   SANGREAL 

The  Sangreal  as  God's  own  beacon  burns 
To  call  us  to  this  knowledge ;  for  his  own  kin 
Are  all  that  labor,  gripping  hands  with  him 
To  make  the  world  a  home  for  all  his  children. 
Hark,  how  it  calls !    Its  pulsing  echoes  swell 
Deeper  and  vaster  till  at  last  it  drowns 
This  noise  of  strife,  this  agony  of  despair; 
The  Sangreal  shall  burn  in  all  our  souls, 
One  blood  shall  pulse  in  all  our  kindred  veins, 
And  all  the  hosts  of  men  shall  dwell  in  peace. 
ARCHBISHOP. 

It  is  finished!   Father,  into  thy  hands  I  commend 
my  spirit. 

HERMIT. 

Gloria  Patri,  et  Filio,  et  Spiritui  Sancto! 
ALL. 

Sicut  erat  in  principle,   et  nunc  et  semper;  per 
omnia  saecula  saeculorum,  Amen. 

[Curtain.} 


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